


Maybe I'm Lacking Funds

by yasminkhxns



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack turned Serious, F/F, Human!13, LMAO THOSE TAGS I HATE MYSELF, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Student!Yaz, dont @ me, idiots to lovers, if you try really hard you might find some plot, lecturer!13, student-lecturer relationship, sugar mummy au, sugar mummy!13, tbh this is just gonna turn to filth real fast, this is becoming a trend of mine, yes the first letters of the words of the title spell milf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25001068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yasminkhxns/pseuds/yasminkhxns
Summary: Yaz soon loses track of Bill’s escapades when her eyes briefly wander over her friend’s shoulder to catch a flick of blonde hair and a deep red pantsuit. Yaz watches as the woman pulls  dark-rimmed glasses from her nose to wipe away the damp specks of rain left on her lens’ as she makes her way up the counter. Unashamedly, Yaz’s gaze follows her, head turning as she ignores Bill completely — who finally notices Yaz’s distraction.“Yaz? What’re you—” Bill pauses, following Yaz’s line of sight straight to her lecturer who she’d seen not an hour ago.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 146
Kudos: 315





	1. We can dance all day around it

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to yet another fic that started out as a joke and turned into a serious writing escapade
> 
> i dunno what to tell you man but sugar mummy!13 is just too good of a thing to pass up on writing so here u are LMAO
> 
> anyway i personally never thought i'd ever write a student/professor (but this is the uk so lecturer) fic but minds can be changed
> 
> either way hope you lot enjoy x

The September weather is damp and typical when Yaz and Bill sit down with their drinks in the campus coffee shop. Bitter gusts of wind blow through the doors every time patrons enter and leave. The muggy sky dulls the open space through the building’s skylight as the two students pull out their laptops and prepare themselves for a studying session.

They’ve already made the collective decision to attempt to keep with their reading this year. 

“I still can’t believe we’ve already been back a week, you know.” Bill huffs as she pulls out a notepad and pen.

“I know, _and_ I’m already back working, so hopefully we don’t fall behind on rent this year.” Yaz frowns as the previous years anxieties light up grimly in her memory banks. 

“Hey, we’ll be alright this year, yeah? This flat is cheaper — even though the landlord is a bit weird. I’ve never seen a bald head _so_ shiny in my life.”

Yaz laughs, recalling the stocky man who daylight robs them every month. “Yeah, by fifty quid. Tell me why I chose to go to uni in London again?”

“So you could meet me, obviously.” Bill charms with a cheeky grin.

“Keep telling yourself that, Bill.”

“Oi! Well if not for me it’s for my fit lecturer, isn’t it?”

Yaz flushes, “Dunno what you mean.”

“Should’ve done physics like me, Yaz. Then you’d get to see Dr Smith three times a week.” 

“Shut up, will you! I’ve mentioned she’s hot like — once.”

“Yaz… you say it every time you see her.”

“Do not.”

“ _Yes_ you do. Not that I can blame you, she does have milf energy. It’s quite distracting in class, actually.”

“Bill?”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

The two students manage to work for all of ten minutes before Bill slips an earbud out and taps Yaz’s arm to grab her attention. Pulling her own earphones out, Yaz presses pause on her music and looks up. “What?”

“Did I tell you about the weekend just gone?” 

“No, what happened?” Bill is about to speak when Yaz interrupts with a correction, “No, wait. Or should I be asking, _who_ happened?”

Bill’s smirk answers her question. 

“Right,” Yaz sighs and takes a sip of her coffee, “What was she like?”

“Yaz mate you should’ve seen her. She was gorgeous. Short, brown hair, big brown eyes, think her name started with a C but I’m not sure.”

“You can’t even remember her name?”

“Yaz, her name wasn’t really important when she was that good with her—” 

Yaz soon loses track of Bill’s escapades when her eyes briefly wander over her friend’s shoulder to catch a flick of blonde hair and a deep red pantsuit. Yaz watches as the woman pulls dark-rimmed glasses from her nose to wipe away the damp specks of rain left on her lens’ as she makes her way up the counter. Unashamedly, Yaz’s gaze follows her, head turning as she ignores Bill completely — who finally notices Yaz’s distraction.

“Yaz? What’re you—” Bill pauses, following Yaz’s line of sight straight to her lecturer who she’d seen not an hour ago, “Yaz! We just — seriously?!”

“Huh?” Yaz’s head spins back around quick enough to catch Bill’s eye roll. “What?”

“What did I say like ten minutes ago?”

“That our landlord has a really shiny head?”

“No! That—” Bill pauses as the very woman heads their way in her journey to the coffee shop exit. It doesn’t take long for her to spot her pupil and Yaz, gaze meeting Yaz’s briefly in a polite smile. 

“Hiya, Bill!” she greets as she walks past, offering a small wave.

“Alright, Doc?” she replies, the two of them watching as blonde pushes past glass doors and back out into the miserable autumn weather. 

“Bill, she’s so hot.”

Bill scoffs a laugh as she throws her hands up at her sides, “I _just_ told you that you say that every time you see her! Thank you for proving my point,” she grins, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest. 

“I—”

“Like I said, it’s okay, Yaz, I’m not judging. She’s a proper milf.”

“Does she have kids?”

“Nah,”

“Then how can she be a milf?”

Bill just shrugs, leaning forward and picking up her pen, “She just has that _milf energy_ , Yaz. What more can I say? Tell me I’m wrong.”

Yaz purses her lips, staying silent.

Bill smirks, “That’s what I thought.” 

* * *

It’s almost 1am when Yaz gets in from her waiting job, pulling her tip bare wallet out of her back pocket and dumping it on the side with a tired sigh. It had been a busy night, with customers choosing to be particularly rude and arrogant and testing of Yaz’s patience. Pulling a glass from the cupboard, Yaz pours herself a glass of water while she sticks her leftovers in the microwave and turns the dial to set the time — when nothing happens. She checks the plug to see the appliance plugged in and the switch turned on, groaning in frustration as she drops her head to the cool counter. The first thing to break and they’ve been living there all of one week. 

Treading down the tiny hallway, Yaz is relieved to find light filtering around the edges of Bill’s bedroom door. She raps gently against the paint peeled wood, pressing down on the stiff handle when she hears Bill’s invitation. 

“What’s up?” she asks from where she’s huddled under the covers, laptop now paused on the show she is watching.

“Microwave’s broke.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Yaz, we’ve only been here a week.” 

“I know, gonna have to heat my food up in the shitty oven now.” There’s a beat where Yaz sighs, “So who’s messaging shiny head landlord?” 

“Bagsy not me.” Bill grins.

“I hate you.” Yaz huffs, leaving Bill’s room, the echo of resounding laughter bouncing along the walls of the hallway. 

“Oi! Shut my door!”

“Nope!” 

* * *

It’s another couple of days before Yaz sees Dr Smith again. She’s on the way to student services to sort out her faulty gym pass when she spots her, this time sporting a beige checkered suit and pair of patent black brogues. Yaz’s walking unconsciously slows for a moment as she watches her drop a couple of bags into the passenger side of a flashy looking sports car. It’s deep blue in colour and shines pristinely in the sun as rays peeks through the clouds in bright beams. The front body work makes the car look angry, a complete contrast to the sunny lecturer that is shutting the car door. When Dr Smith glances up briefly, she catches sight of Yaz watching.

She shoots Yaz a crooked smile before rounding the car to drop into the driver’s side and stick the key in the ignition to permit the engine to roar to life. Yaz gulps, cheeks flushing red as she forces her gaze away, narrowly avoiding bumping into another student in her flustered state. 

Yaz has seen Dr Smith around since the start of university, unable to forget when Bill first told her about her _‘super hot lecturer._ ’ Yaz had met Bill after her class one day and that’s when she’d first laid eyes on her. She had been instantly awestruck. She’s never forgotten the first time she saw Dr Smith, never forgotten the jealousy that pulsed through her at her friend’s luck when she thought of all the mediocre white men that taught her own classes.

Ever since then, she’s been an easy spot around campus for the past two years, yet now, finally in the third year of her sport and exercise science degree, Dr Smith has noticed her. Twice. In the space of a few days.

As Yaz passes through the automatic doors of student services, she has to remind herself what she’s there for. 

After their accidental eye contact, Yaz swears she sees Dr Smith around campus more often — or she’s just looking out for her twice as much. They often pass in the science buildings, offering each other polite smiles, and Yaz quickly notices that Dr Smith’s seems to grow wider and wider every time. 

Eventually, the smiles turn into greetings, Dr Smith initiating the first one with a “Hiya!” Yet, Yaz is so groggy that morning with a lack of coffee and exhaustion from work that she can’t process a response, too surprised by the attention she’s receiving and the lack of brain power she has without caffeine in her system. 

The next time though, Yaz is prepared, coffee in hand and half drunk while she’s on the way to her lecture. Heading up the stairs, Dr Smith passes her and offers a warm, “Morning!” 

Readily caffeinated, this time, Yaz sends a warm, “Morning!” Back to the woman.

She’s never felt so flustered over a single greeting. Through her lecture, Yaz can barely concentrate, Dr Smith’s sunny smile and northern twang playing on repeat in her head. 

By the end of the lecture, the only thing Yaz has written in her notepad is the date.

What Yaz isn’t expecting the next day after her lecture is to be waiting for the lift — she can’t be bothered with the stairs — and for the metal doors to slide open to the sight of Dr Smith. Dr Smith, who is dressed in a tight fitting navy blue suit, glasses perched on the end of her nose while she scrutinises her phone screen. The older woman looks up as Yaz steps inside, her frown turning into a cheery smile as she locks the device and stuffs it into her pocket. 

“Oh! Hello!” 

“Hey,” Yaz responds nervously, checking the lift is already heading for the ground floor (it is) before turning back to shoot Dr Smith a smile. 

The doors shut, the monotonous voice starts to crackle through the speaker, and Dr Smith’s gaze wanders over Yaz in observation. “Sorry, you’re — you’re Bill’s friend aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Yaz nods, “I’m Yasmin.”

“Yasmin,” Dr Smith tests on her tongue before grinning, “brilliant name that is.”

“Really?” 

“Absolutely! Anyway, I thought you were Bill’s mate, I’m sure I’ve seen around with her before.”

“Yeah, you probably have.”

“She just as much of a trouble maker out of class as she is in it?”

“More so, I imagine.” Yaz laughs, far from surprised to hear of her friend’s antics.

Dr Smith laughs along with Yaz, the sound light and airy as it sends a fluttering feeling through Yaz’s chest. 

As their laughter fades, the next sound to reverberate through the lift is the ping of their arrival on the ground floor. The doors open and Dr Smith gestures for Yaz to exit first.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Dr Smith says as she steps out after her.

Yaz can’t believe her luck when they both head the same way. 

“So, Yasmin,” Dr Smith starts, choosing to continue their conversation, “What’re you studying here? Feels rude not to ask as lecturer, after all.”

“Sport and exercise science. That’s why I’m in this building a bit more now. Think it’s because I’m in my final year.”

“It will be, yeah,” Dr Smith agrees, “Use the labs a lot more now, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing really. They’re the best lectures.”

“Yes! Lab work is always ace. Shame that teaching physics means I don’t use them much.” 

Dr Smith stops then, both of them standing outside a lecture hall. “Right, this is my stop.” she nods toward the door, “Was lovely speaking to you, Yasmin. I’m sure I’ll see you around?” 

“Definitely!” Yaz responds a little too eagerly, cursing herself as she feels her cheeks warm.

“And tell Bill I said hi!” Dr Smith calls out as she pushes the door open and heads inside. 

When the door falls softly shut, Yaz sighs, starting toward the building’s exit when she hears the door swing back open behind her. Yaz spins around to find Dr Smith peering around the door.

“Elliot Smith, by the way. Just realised I never introduced myself, very rude of me. Have a nice day, Yaz!” she waves, slipping back inside the hall and leaving a dumbfounded Yasmin Khan to stand in the middle of the corridor. 

* * *

“Elliot?! You never told me her name was Elliot!” Yaz chides Bill as they leave campus.

“Sorry!” Bill lifts her hands in surrender, “Everyone in class just calls her the Doc so I never thought to say.” There’s a pause, then a smirk, “Nice name though, yeah? Dr Elliot Smith.”

Yaz groans, “It’s such a nice name.” 

“So what was your chat like?” Bill asks with a cheeky grin and a teasing elbow in Yaz’s side.

“Get off,” she playfully shoves in return, “It were fine.”

“Fine? That’s it?” 

“Spoke about you.”

“Me? You know you aren’t supposed to talk about other girls when you’re flirting, Yaz.”

I—” Yaz scoffs, “I weren’t flirting!” 

“Hmm, really?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Don’t believe you mate, you’ve got too much of the hots for her to not have.”

“God, you’re so annoying.”

“And that’s why you love me,” Bill sing-songs with a grin plastered on her face.

Yaz just raises a single eyebrow in response before shifting her gaze back forward. 

“Go on then, what did she say about me?”

“She said you were a trouble maker.”

Bill feigns shock before breaking it with a laugh, “That’s only ‘cause I banter with her. Once she was gushing about how excited she was about the new lab and when she showed it to us, I told her it just looked like a posh kitchen. She tried so hard to look unimpressed but she was dying to laugh.”

“Nice to know it’s not just me you’re annoying with, then.” 

“I’m her fave student, she loves me. Don’t get too jealous, Yaz.”

“ _Ugh,_ can you stop?” Yaz groans, pausing to slump down on the seat of the bus stop. “Anyway, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“What time you finishing today? Is it your waiting job?”

“Nah, dog sitting.” 

“Oh, God. Who for? Not that Mrs. Peterson again is it?”

Yaz stares at Bill blankly and watches her friend sigh despondently, “Yaz, she’s the _worst_. She treats you like shit. Dunno why you look after her ratty dogs.”

“I deal with it _because_ I need the money for us to pay rent and yeah she’s horrible but she pays well. Plus I get to snoop around her house for a few hours and it’s well posh.”

“Yaz, you shouldn’t have to deal with that though she’s—”

“A bitch.” Yaz interrupts, “I know. Look, I’m not looking for another job, Bill, not when she pays me as well as she does to look after her dogs.”

“Her rats, you mean.” 

“They aren’t that bad.” Yaz chides gently.

Bill scoffs in return, “Yaz, her chihuahuas are evil little demons. Swear the devil lives inside Gizmo.” 

Yaz is about to reply when her bus turns the corner, so she stands from her seat and sticks her hand out. “Right, see you later, Bill.” 

“See ya, Yaz. Come back with all your fingers, yeah? Don’t let Gizmo bite them all off.”

“Whatever,” Yaz steps up onto the bus, “Bye!”

* * *

It’s been a few hours since Mrs. Peterson left Yaz in her home, having greeted her with her usual patronising welcome and passive aggressive threats not to steal any of her belongings. At the thought, Yaz’s gaze roams over the living room’s horrendous decor and she scoffs. Mrs. Peterson may be rich, but her sense of style is horribly outdated with frilly curtains and mismatched antique furniture, not to mention the glass cupboard in the corner of the room full of ugly jugs and crude statues. 

Yaz is brought out of her musings by the whine of Petal, Mrs. Peterson’s second chihuahua who stands by the back door scratching the glass in insistence to be let out. Pulling herself up off the uncomfortable velvet sofa and over to the french doors, Yaz pushes them open and steps out with both the dogs. The area Mrs. Peterson lives in means ridiculously expensive houses and beautiful, spacious back gardens — Yaz’s constantly breaking flat suddenly feels like a sad comparison.

She watches the dogs play after doing their business, stepping further out onto the patio and knocking a tennis ball with her foot. Picking it up off the ground grabs the attention of both dogs, their tails wagging and back legs tense, ready to chase the ball once Yaz decides to throw it. 

Yaz lobs it a good distance, watching the dogs scamper down the garden after it. The repetition allows her mind to wander, leading her back to earlier that day — back to her run in with Dr Elliot Smith and her naturally kind nature. She’s even more alluring up close than she has been at the distance Yaz has accepted over the past two years. Suddenly seeing her so regularly has been quite a surprise. 

A high pitched bark snaps her back into the garden as she bends down to pick up the ball where Petal has dropped it, throwing it for the dogs to chase again and again until they drop down on the patio panting heavily. Yaz sits herself down near petal, crossing her legs and calling her over to perch in her lap.

Petal is far nicer than her brother who has drawn blood from Yaz on past occasions, though Mrs. Peterson refuses to ever believe it’s Gizmo’s fault — it’s always Yaz’s. 

Yaz sits and strokes Petal, watching the wind blow through the trees, following the fall of the leaves from the branches until they meet the ground. 

She jumps when her phone starts buzzing her pocket. Pulling it out, Yaz sighs when she sees the name of her other boss. 

Tapping the green button, she brings the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Yaz? You free tonight?”

“Hello to you too.” she snarks back.

“Yes, hello, now are you free tonight?”

“What time?”

“Seven.”

Yaz pulls her phone away and checks the time — it reads 4:45pm. Mrs. Robinson is due home at 5:30pm. 

Yaz sighs, bringing the phone back up to her ear, “Yeah I can do it.”

“Perfect thanks, Yaz. See you in a bit.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

The phone cuts off abruptly on the other end and Yaz groans, accepting her fate of being a zombie at uni the next morning for her 9am.

Before putting her phone away, she pulls up her text thread with Bill:

_Yaz [4:47pm]: Working at the restaurant tonight as well now Bill. I’ll see you in the morning x_

_Bill [4:48pm]: Mate ur gonna be so dead tomorrow, good luck with that lmao_

* * *

It’s 8:30am when Yaz wakes up after snoozing her alarm at least five times, nearly falling out of bed when she finally checks her phone.

“Shit!”

Yaz throws off the covers and chucks on yesterday’s clothes before readying herself for a full day of lectures as quick as she can. Twenty minutes later she’s out the door, halfway through a breakfast bar and a travel mug of coffee. 

By the time Yaz makes it to campus, she’s nearing on five minutes late, her tired mind too foggy with sleep to watch where she is going when she turns a corner and slams into somebody else. 

It’s too late to realise she hasn’t screwed the lid of her cup on properly when she steps back ready to apologise, only to be mortified by the dirty brown coffee stain she’s left on a crisp white shirt. When Yaz’s gaze moves from the ruined item of clothing to its owner, her mortification doubles tenfold. Stood in front of her, wet shirt clinging to her torso, is Dr Elliot Smith.

“Oh my God,” Yaz murmurs, hand covering her mouth, “I’m — Dr Smith, I’m _so_ sorry! I’m so so sorry I’ll — I’ll buy you a new shirt or wash it or I’ll—”

“Yasmin!” Dr Smith interrupts, placing gentle hands on her upper arms, “Don’t worry about it. I can buy another.”

Yaz shakes her head in panicked disagreement as her stomach plummets into the depths of anxiety, “No, I’ve ruined it. I can’t let you just buy another, I’ll buy it. I mean it might take me awhile to save but—”

“Yasmin,” Dr Smith’s stern tone breaks through Yaz’s ramble, “You are not buying me a new shirt. You are not washing it. You are not doing anything. It’s honestly fine. I can buy another. It's not a problem for me.”

Taking pause, Yaz thinks back to the time she saw Dr Smith on the university car park, “Right, of course. You're rich.” Yaz’s eyes widen like saucers as she shakes her head, “I mean, I saw your car so you have to be otherwise I’ve just been really rude in assuming you are and failed to shut my big gob again, sorry—”

A squeeze of her arms has any words Yaz is ready with melting into nothing on the tip of her tongue, more so when Dr Smith offers her a reassuring smile. “Yasmin, you are right, don’t worry, I can afford it. If anything, I’d rather buy you a new coffee cup so this doesn’t happen again.” she says with a chuckle, dropping her hands from Yaz’s arms and shoving them in her trouser pockets. 

“No, honestly it’s fine. I’m just an idiot who’s too tired to screw the lid on properly so…” Yaz trails off, unsure of where she’s going, instead observing the brief glint in Dr Smith’s eye. 

“Well I suppose you were running late, Yasmin?” Dr Smith quips with a smirk.

Yaz gasps at the sudden reminder, “Shit, yes. Sorry I’ve gotta go. Are you sur—”

“I’m sure. Enjoy your lecture, Yasmin.” Dr Smith encourages as she steps aside for Yaz to continue her rushed journey through campus.

“Thank you!” Yaz nods as she steps past the ever sharply dressed woman and toward the university building.

By the time Yaz steps back outside just after noon and in desperate need of more caffeine, she whips her phone out to call Bill, itching to tell her best friend about the morning's events. 

_“Hey, Yaz,”_ Bill greets after the third ring.

“Bill, oh my God you aren’t gonna believe what happened to me this morning.”

_“You found out evil alien monks have taken over the planet?!”_

Yaz frowns at her friend’s teasing, “What? No I — I bumped into Dr Smith, and by bumped I mean literally and I spilled my bloody coffee all over her!”

On the other end of the line, Bill’s laughter erupts harsh and tinny through the speaker, _“Oh my god._ **_Yaz, how?_ ** _”_

“I weren’t looking where I was going, was I? I were so tired this morning after last night's shift and the dog sitting _and_ having been at uni.”

_“You’re working yourself too hard, Yaz. And I don’t even mean that as a joke. You’re gonna burn yourself out again like you did last year.”_ The genuine concern in Bill’s voice is touching even though it also sends a quick spike of frustration through Yaz.

“Yeah, well I _need_ to work, Bill. You know that.”

_“Yeah,”_ Bill sighs, _“I know._ ” 

There’s a brief pause before Bill speaks again. 

_“Anyway, what did the Doc say?”_

“Luckily she weren’t bothered. I offered to buy her a new shirt and everything. Even said I’d take it home and wash it for her! I panic rambled — _ugh,_ ” Yaz groans, palm slapping against her forehead, “Why am I like this Bill?”

_“A hot gay mess?”_

“Wh — no! A clumsy idiot!”

_“Yaz. You are not clumsy. At all. You are a hot, gay, mess.”_

“God, I am, aren’t I? Not the hot part though.” 

_“Oi. Shut up. You’re gorgeous.”_

“Hmm,”

_“Yaz,”_ Bill chides sternly.

“Anyway are you on campus?” Yaz asks, diverting the subject from her looks.

Accepting the sly change of subject, Bill replies, _“Yeah just arrived, you at the coffee shop?”_

“Nearly, see you there?” 

_“Yeah see you in a sec.”_

* * *

The next time Yaz sees Dr Smith, she’s just finished her lecture while Dr Smith is on the way to teach hers. As soon as they lock eyes, Yaz feels her cheeks flare up in embarrassment and quickly wonders if it would be rude to dive into the slowly closing lift a couple steps away. 

By the time she has the chance to dive into the safety of the cramped metal box, Dr Smith is already upon her.

“Yasmin, hiya!”

Clearing her throat, Yaz forces herself to hold the other woman’s gaze, “Hi, Dr Smith.”

“Please, call me Elliot. Dr Smith is far too formal. Anyway, about the other day—”

“I’m sorry!” Yaz interrupts, “I really am _so_ sorry about that I’m such an idiot. I still can’t believe I—”

“Yasmin!”

“Yeah?”

“Stop apologising. You’ve nothing to be sorry for. In fact…” Elliot trails off, flipping open her messenger bag and rummaging around inside.

While she roots around in the depths of her bag, frown lines crease her forehead and her tongue pokes out the side of her mouth in determination. Yaz scalds herself for where her mind immediately goes.

“Swear bags are bigger on the inside sometimes, flippin’ heck where is — _aha!_ Got it!” With a small cheer, Elliot pulls out a brand new reusable cup and hands it to Yaz. The design is cute, a bright royal blue dotted with turtles and Yaz’s name engraved onto the lid. “I got you a new one because the lid on yours is a bit rubbish.” 

As Yaz rolls the cup in her hands, taking in the design, _the engraving,_ a small wave of shock and surprise overwhelms her at the selfless gesture. It feels like something far nicer than she could ever afford to the point it brings her to near tears. It’s only then, when Elliot spots the glisten in her eyes, that the older woman panics into a back-track. 

“Oh no. Do you hate it? Should I have not done this? Should I have got a different design? Do you hate turtles? _Urgh_ I’m such an idiot. Shit. Sorry, Yasmin, I can take back and get you another one, or—”

“No! No! It’s lovely, Elliot, thank you,” Yaz says through a watery laugh, “It’s just really kind of you. My other one was only like a couple quid for Home Bargains because it’s all I could really afford, so, thank you. Seriously.” she finishes with a genuine smile that Elliot returns twice as bright. 

“Oh — oh! Brilliant. Yes, I’m glad you like it, Yasmin.” For a moment, their gaze lingers before Elliot breaks it by checking her watch with a gasp, “Right, gotta dash, Yasmin. Got a class to teach. See you around!” 

Elliot’s gone in a blink, darting around Yaz with a hand on her shoulder as she heads off toward the lecture hall at the end of the corridor. Yaz watches her the whole way, chuckling to herself when the other woman nearly walks straight into a pull door. 

When Yaz sits in class later, she almost chokes on air, ignoring confused looks of her classmates when she googles the coffee cup’s brand and finds them online for £80.

* * *

Yaz only has to wait until the next morning to see Elliot again. No lectures until the afternoon means the chance for a morning run and Yaz doesn't let the light, muggy drizzle stop her. She has a playlist blasting through her headphones and water bottle in hand as she runs along the main pathway of the university campus and past one of the staff car parks. It only takes spotting a glint of sharp, dark blue out the corner of Yaz’s eye for her to turn her head and spot Dr Elliot Smith drop a whole box of papers out the passenger seat of her car with what Yaz can guess is a curse from the movement of the woman’s mouth. 

Pulling out her earbuds, Yaz jogs over. 

“Need any help?” she calls out.

Elliot’s head snaps up, her eyes wide and lips parted, “Oh! Morning, Yasmin! Erm — if you don’t mind? I’m such a clutz sometimes.”

“Course, no problem!”

Bending down, Yaz helps Elliot shove the papers back in the box, stealing a glance at the blonde who, for the cool weather, has surprisingly pink cheeks. 

Pausing in her mission, Yaz waits until she can catch Elliot’s gaze, “You ok, Elliot?” 

“Me? Course. I’m fine. Always fine, me. Just clumsy, Yasmin, honestly don’t worry about me.”

With a suspect frown toward the other woman, Yaz continues to stack the last of the papers in the box, rising from the ground with the wipe of her brow and a huff of breath. 

Clasping the box under her arm and shutting the car door with her foot, Elliot turns to Yaz with a grateful smile, “Thank you, Yasmin, saved me a lot of ruined marking there. Sorry for interrupting your run like an idiot.”

“Don’t be daft,” Yaz insists, “And it’s Yaz, by the way.”

Elliot gives her a quizzical frown and Yaz watches as realisation clicks in her mind, “Oh! Brilliant!” 

There’s a beat before either woman speaks again.

“Um, also, I just wanted to say thanks again for the coffee cup. It’s really good. Not spilled a drop.” Yaz tries not to outwardly cringe at her awkwardness. 

“Ah, not a problem, Yaz,” Elliot replies with a casual shrug. “I’ve bought their stuff before so I knew it was good. Only the best quality for a friend.”

The word _friend_ specifically has Yaz’s chest fluttering as she grins before quickly switching to a frown, “You didn’t have to spend that much though. I’ll be honest and admit I looked up the brand up because I loved the design and it was — _expensive._ ” 

“Was it?” Elliot questions, lips pulling into a tight smile as the crease between her eyebrows deepens and she scratches the back of her neck in an anxious tick, “To be honest Yaz, I don’t really look at prices.” 

“Oh…” Yaz trails off, unsure of how to respond and slightly surprised at the exceptional wealth of the other woman.

“Oh no, was that the wrong thing to say? Just because I don’t look at prices doesn’t mean I don't care — no wait, that sounds rude. What I mean is — is that money might not be an object but I still care about what I’m buying, and the quality of it and how it looks and if it’s got turtles on because turtles are brilliant and now I’m rambling. _Ugh,_ sorry, Yaz. I’m not very good at explaining myself sometimes.” Elliot finishes, rubbing her temple. 

“Hey it’s alright, I get you. You seem a really genuine person Elliot, it’s obvious you care and put thought into things, so don’t worry. The cup is lovely, thank you, again.” 

Elliot just stares in response, her expression stunned. 

“Elliot, you ok?”

Shaking her head slightly, Elliot smiles earnestly, “Yes! Sorry. It’s just — often people get annoyed when I ramble like that. I’m not always great at people. Probably my upbringing. Being born into wealth provides a lot of isolation so… not that I’m trying to get sympathy for my privilege of course!” she panics, shaking a hand in front of her, “I’m gonna shut up now, sorry. Think I’m embarrassing myself.” 

“Elliot?”

“Hm?”

“You’re doing great. Trust me, I’ve met a lot of snobby people who probably have a lot less money than you and are completely stuck up. So when I say you’re great, I mean it.” Yaz takes a breath and offers Elliot an encouraging smile, “Anyway, I’ll let you get to work. See you around, yeah?” she proposes, slowly taking a step back to continue on her run.

“Yes! Definitely, see ya, Yaz!” Elliot grins with a wave and Yaz finally swivels on her heel, picking up the pace as she jogs along, convinced she can feel Elliot’s gaze burning into her back. 

* * *

It’s after lunch that Yaz meets Bill outside her class before going for afternoon drinks with their mates. Yaz stands by the doorway and watches the class filter out, waiting for her friend to slip through the door. It’s only when the last person leaves and Bill is yet to be seen that Yaz frowns. Peeking around the door frame, Yaz is surprised to realise it had been one of Elliot’s classes and the sight of the woman chatting animatedly with Bill warms her chest. Shoving the feeling down, Yaz takes a step inside and clears her throat to catch their attention.

Elliot’s head snaps to attention first, spotting Yaz first as her face splits into a wide grin, “Oh! Hiya, Yaz!” she greets with a wave.

Bill glances at Yaz with a knowing smirk then, and Yaz sends a warning look her friend’s way, “Hey! I was wondering where Bill was but I’m not surprised she’s stayed behind to annoy you.”

“Annoy? Yaz, you know I’m all charm.” Bill quips with a grin.

“Whatever,” Yaz scoffs. 

Stepping further into the room, Yaz moves to stand next to Bill, “So did all your marking survive?” Yaz asks Elliot, thinking back to earlier in the morning. 

“Yes! Thank you — just about. Some of it is currently airing out around my office but we managed to save it all.”

“Oh?” Bill pipes up with intrigue.

“Well,” Elliot starts, slipping her glasses off the bridge of her nose and stuffing them in the inside pocket of her forest-green blazer, “I dropped a whole box of marking this morning when it was raining and Yaz was there to be my knight in shining armour.” 

“ _Oh,_ right,” Bill grins wickedly, “Wouldn’t do that for just anyone, would you, Yaz?” 

Glaring at her friend, Yaz feels her cheeks redden, “Shut up,” she shoves Bill lightly. 

Gaze dropping awkwardly, Yaz spots a coffee cup identical to hers still sat on the desk. Elliot’s gaze follows her own. 

“Oh, yes, um—” picking up the cup, Elliot turns it in her hand, “When I bought yours I actually liked the design so much that I got one of my own.” 

“Doesn’t say _Yaz_ on the top too, does it?” Yaz jokes, revelling in the airy laughter she receives from Elliot.

“No, it’s not _totally_ identical, got my own name on the top, see?” Elliot tilts the cup to show Yaz the lid where _Elliot_ is engraved in the plastic before swiftly lifting it back level, “Actually, best not tilt it too far, think there’s still some coffee left in it. Don’t want another accident now do we?” 

“Yeah, don’t want to ruin another million quid suit,” Bill quips with a cheeky smile.

Yaz scowls at her friend while Elliot simply laughs, used to the banter Bill throws her way.

“Bill!” Yaz scolds, though her friend’s smile only grows bigger. 

“What?”

“Ah it’s fine, Yaz,” Elliot interjects with a wave of her hand, “I’m used to the rubbish that comes out of Bill’s mouth.” Stuffing the last of her papers into her bag, Elliot slings the strap over her shoulder, “Anyway, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, I have another class in ten minutes so I’ve got to go. See you both!” 

As Elliot rounds the table, she places a cautious hand on Yaz’s shoulder with a warm smile as she passes. The brief contact sends a jolt of heat through Yaz who finds herself frozen until the nudge of her friend pulls her out of it. 

“She’s into you,” Bill suggests with the raise of her eyebrows.

“Oh my God, shut up. No she’s not.” Yaz rolls her eyes as both women turn to leave the room. 

“She so is, Yaz. Don’t think I didn’t see that shoulder touch, the eye sex — and don’t even get me started on _matching_ coffee cups.”

“Bill — I didn’t _ask_ her to buy me the cup. She chose to buy one for herself too! It is a nice design, you know.”

“Yeah, but it was a _£80_ coffee cup.”

Yaz balks. “How—”

“I looked up the brand too, Yaz, Google exists.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, Bill. She’s a lecturer at the uni I go to.”

“So? She’s hot.”

“Bill…” Yaz chides in a hushed tone now they’re back out in the corridor and surrounded by students. 

“What? I’m not wrong.”

“I mean — no, you’re not.” 

“See! So—”

“Come on, Bill, don’t be daft, and if we don’t hurry we’re gonna be late so—” Yaz gestures ahead of them to the road crammed with parked cars and student houses squeezed together with an array of rubbish outside — ranging from graffitied gnomes to stolen traffic cones that likely sufficed as hats for drunk student’s heads. 

* * *

The afternoon drinks quickly become a weekly routine for their friendship group, a way to relax and wind down through the third year stress and pressure of a looming dissertation deadline. Though for Yaz, drinks only happen if her work hours permit it. It also becomes routine for Yaz to meet Bill after her lecture, and routine for them to chat with Elliot before she rushes off nearly late to teach her next class every time. 

One time specifically, Yaz’s cancelled lecture means an opportunity to use the tired looking uni gym and its sweaty machines — the fault of the university's resident gym jockeys. With disgust, Yaz rigorously wipes down every machine she uses and adjusts the weights to fit her own strength. 

When she’s red in the cheeks and her muscles ache in protest, she stretches out and leaves to head back home — her work rota for the week meaning no afternoon drinks. Yet, when she checks the time and sees Bill is about to finish, she changes her route to start in the direction of Bill’s class. Students are filtering out by the time Yaz arrives and when she peeps around the door, she’s unsurprised to find Bill and Elliot chatting away. 

“Hey!” Yaz calls out, Bill looking her way with surprise at the sight of her friend. 

“Yaz? What you doing here?” With a gasp Bill grins, “Did your work shift get cancelled? Are you coming now?”

In reply, Yaz simply snorts, “I wish. I were just at the gym and realised you just finished so thought I’d come say hi before I head home.” 

When Yaz glances in Elliots direction, she can’t help the slight smirk that tugs at the corner of her lips. The other other woman’s jaw may as well have been on the floor at the sight of Yaz in her tight fitting gym clothes, her glasses slowly slipping down her nose like a cartoon. 

“Alright, Elliot?” she greets, and in the corner of her eye, Yaz is convinced she can see Bill trying to hold her laughter in. 

Elliot’s mouth clamps shut before she starts stuttering in an attempt to find a reply on her tongue, “H — Hiya, Yaz, I’m fine, thank you. Very good, yes – um – how are you?” she barely manages, one palm lifting from where it lay flat on the desk in front of her to push her glasses back up her nose. 

“Tired, that gym session was killer, managed to up my weights a bit though.” Yaz recalls smugly.

“Get a load of you!” Bill commends with a nudge of her elbow into Yaz’s ribs. 

“Yeah that’s — that’s really good, Yaz.” Elliot agrees with furiously red cheeks, “My arms are like twigs, I bet I’d get squished lifting what you do.” 

Yaz takes note of the way Elliot’s eyes wonder along her arms that she may or not be inadvertently flexing. 

“Doc, you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, you’ve got like, some weird, deceptive strength because you’re super skinny but I’ve seen you lift stuff that has surprised me.”

“Really?”

“Yep!” 

“Oh, well,” Elliot says with a cocky shrug, “Maybe I could give Yaz a run for her money, then.” she quips _— flirtatiously?_

“I’d like to see you try,” Yaz hits back with folded arms and her own smirk that sets off something charged between them like a bolt of electricity breaking through the clouds. 

“Okay well, Doc, we’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late for drinks. See you next week yeah? Bye!” Bill nods toward the door and Yaz follows with a goodbye to Elliot that the older woman returns with a lilt of confusion at their sudden departure.

Once out the door, Yaz begins her interrogation. 

“What was that about?” 

“Oh my God, _Yaz._ Did you not see that?”

“What?”

“She was proper flirting with you then, come on, and don’t act innocent I see you flirting back.” Bill accuses with a cheeky grin. 

“I wasn’t.” Yaz tries to deny with a shrug.

“Please, Yaz. I know flirting when I see it. I could practically _feel_ the tension.” There’s a pause where Yaz neglects to deny Bill’s observations, “She fancies you.”

“She–”

“Does! She _so_ does, Yaz. You should go for it.”

“Wh— no! I think _,_ we stop bringing this up.”

“I think we shouldn’t.”

Bill—”

“I’m gonna put the scenario to them at drinks today and see what the others think.”

“Bill, don’t you _dare_. I’m serious.”

“But—”

“Bill. No. I mean it.” 

_“Ugh,_ fine.” 

Their conversation takes them off campus, stopping at the university entrance. Bill pauses when she goes to give Yaz a hug goodbye, dropping her arms back to her sides with a grimace, “Actually, I bet you’re all sweaty so, maybe not.” 

“Wow, thanks, Bill.”

“Love you, Yaz. See you later. Have fun at work!” she says, blowing a jokey kiss goodbye. 

“Yeah, thanks. See ya, Bill.” 

* * *

The routine of chatting with Elliot after Bill’s class each week continues, Yaz slowly learning more and more about the enigmatic doctor. Though as Christmas break approaches and deadlines draw ever closer along with more shifts at an increasingly busier work, Yaz snaps up any opportunity she gets to work in the library. So much so in fact, that when she actually _can_ make afternoon drinks, she’s too busy drowning in essay work to make it, subsequently meaning she stops seeing Elliot as often. 

The realisation that Yaz hasn’t seen the woman for nearly two weeks hits Yaz like a brick over her head as she slumps further into her library booth. The desk in front of her is swamped in books and she refuses to think about the amount of tabs open on her laptop when she sighs and her stomach rumbles, reminding her it’s been far too long since she ate, and for someone who can barely afford rent, the uni shop is too expensive. Plus, heading to the shop means she runs the risk of losing her booth and refuses to let that happen.

With an exhausted sigh, Yaz skips the song that starts playing in her earphones and begins typing her next paragraph. She becomes so engrossed in her work, in fact, that she almost misses the placement of something on her table when someone walks by, lifting her head to catch a flash of blonde hair disappearing around the corner. With a frown, Yaz peers around the screen of her laptop with a surprised gasp. Pulling an earphone out, she looks around for the woman in question before focusing back on the pre-packed sandwich, crisps, chocolate bar and bottle of water on the table.

Yaz plucks a sticky note off the sandwich:

_Make sure you eat. Your body and brain will thank you for the energy!_

_Keep working hard, you’re doing great!_

_-E x’_

Yaz can feel the smile on her lips grow as she reads the note, cheeks and chest warming pleasantly at the messy cursive. She tries not to think too much about the kiss at the end.

With the first bite of the sandwich Yaz hums quietly in delight, only now realising just how ravenous she was. She practically inhales the food, bringing up her uni email as she eats. 

She searches for Elliot’s name, finding her with ease before quickly typing out an email to the older woman.

_From:_ [ _yasmin.khan@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:yasmin.khan@bul.ac.uk)

_To:_ [ _elliot.smith@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:elliot.smith@bul.ac.uk)

_Subject: thank you!_

_Hi Elliot!_

_Thank you for the food, I was actually proper starving but the shop is well expensive and I didn’t wanna lose my spot. Basically you’re a lifesaver!_

_Hopefully see you soon!_

_Yaz x_

With a click, Yaz sends off the email with a small smile to herself and finishes off the rest of what Elliot bought her. 

By the time she pops the last of the chocolate bar in her mouth, Yaz’s emails light up with a response.

_From:_ [ _elliot.smith@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:elliot.smith@bul.ac.uk)

_To:_ [ _yasmin.khan@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:yasmin.khan@bul.ac.uk)

_Subject: Re: thank you!_

_Don’t know what you mean, that could’ve been anyone ;)_

_E x_

Yaz can’t help the snort that escapes her when she fails to cover a laugh, and tries her hardest to ignore the glares she receives from the table of students parallel to her. Clearing her throat, Yaz clicks the reply button.

_From:_ [ _yasmin.khan@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:yasmin.khan@bul.ac.uk)

_To:_ [ _elliot.smith@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:elliot.smith@bul.ac.uk)

_Subject: Re: thank you!_

_Suppose you’re right. Shame the random person who bought me food got me a rank sandwich x_

Yaz barely has time to get back to her work before she receives a response. 

_From:_ [ _elliot.smith@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:elliot.smith@bul.ac.uk)

_To:_ [ _yasmin.khan@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:yasmin.khan@bul.ac.uk)

_Subject: Re: thank you!_

_Oh no did you not like it : ((((_

_E x_

_From:_ [_yasmin.khan@uol.ac.uk_](mailto:yasmin.khan@bul.ac.uk)

 _To:_ [ _elliot.smith@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:elliot.smith@bul.ac.uk)

_Subject: Re: thank you!_

_HA! So it was you! I mean I knew that anyway but no I’m joking it was really good thank you x_

_From:_ [ _elliot.smith@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:elliot.smith@bul.ac.uk)

_To:_ [ _yasmin.khan@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:yasmin.khan@bul.ac.uk)

_Subject: Re: thank you!_

_Oh, good! I went for the vegan option to be on the safe side. Would’ve been pretty awkward if I stuck a chicken sarnie in front of you and you were vegan!! :\\\\\_

_E x_

_From:_ [_yasmin.khan@uol.ac.uk_](mailto:yasmin.khan@bul.ac.uk)

 _To:_ [ _elliot.smith@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:elliot.smith@bul.ac.uk)

_Subject: Re: thank you!_

_Smart thinking because I am vegetarian x_

With nowhere for the conversation to go, Yaz sits back against the booth with a sigh, and a feeling of disappointment weighing on her chest. The brief chat with Elliot had been a nice reprieve from the depths of her work, and with it now over it means she has no choice but to dive right back in. So, it catches her off guard when she’s notified of a response. 

_From:_ [ _elliot.smith@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:elliot.smith@bul.ac.uk)

_To:_ [ _yasmin.khan@uol.ac.uk_ ](mailto:yasmin.khan@bul.ac.uk)

_Subject: Re: thank you!_

_If you’re still around in a couple of hours I’ll pop back with a coffee_

_E x_

If Yaz had been taking a drink, she would’ve choked on the response. Staring at the screen for a good minute, she reads the reply over and over while unconsciously making the decision to stay put for the next two hours. 

She’s not sure if she should really feel this strongly about a lecturer at her university, but she’s already too far gone to care. 

Closing her emails, Yaz throws herself into her work, music pumping in her ears while she powers through her essay with renewed energy from the food Elliot bought her. She gets so caught up in her work that just over two hours later, she doesn’t notice the person approaching, only realising when they slide into the opposite side of the booth and push a cup of coffee through the pathway of strewn books. 

Looking up, Yaz plucks out her earphones and greets her visitor with a warm smile, “Hi.”

“Hiya,” Elliot replies, returning a smile that Yaz knows outshines her own. Glancing at the disposable cup, Elliot’s smile morphs into a smirk, “Got you your coffee.”

“Thank you, seriously.” Yaz remarks earnestly. Popping the lid off, her smile falls, “Um — I don’t like black coffee,” she grimaces apologetically. 

“Ah! See—” Elliot pauses when she is shushed somewhere in the vicinity, “See,” she starts, this time quietly, “I had no idea how you actually have your coffee so…”

Trailing off, Elliot begins digging into the outer pockets of her suit blazer, pulling out tiny milks of varying types and sugar packets from the other pocket. From an inner pocket, she even pulls out a couple of mini coffee syrups and places them on the table, “Ta-da!” she whispers in sing-song. “You can customise your coffee.” 

Slightly stunned by the gesture and how insanely considerate it is, Yaz speaks the first thing that comes to mind, “Wow.”

“Good wow or bad wow?” Elliot asks, face scrunching in worried anticipation.

“Good wow. Definitely. This was ridiculously sweet of you, thank you.” Yaz says, reaching to grab a couple of soya milks and one brown sugar. 

“Don’t want a syrup?” Elliot questions, lifting one from the table and shaking it between her fingers.

“What are they?”

“Vanilla or caramel.”

“Hmm, I’ll try the caramel one actually and swap it out for the sugar.” Yaz raises an eyebrow at Elliot’s shocked expression, “What?”

“You _don’t_ have sugar _and_ syrup?”

“No, that’s _way_ too sweet.” There’s a pause as Yaz watches Elliot’s mouth fall shut and lips pull tight in guilt. “You do, don’t you?”

“I think you might cry if you knew how I took my coffee.”

“Go on then,” Yaz presses, eager to learn anything about the Doctor, “tell me.”

“That’s for another time, Yaz.” Elliot winks. 

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth at Elliot’s smirk, Yaz decides on one thing — _fuck it._ “Is that your way of asking me to go for coffee with you?” 

“Who knows.” Elliot shrugs, her vagueness making Yaz want to scream.

“How you getting on with your work, anyway?” Elliot diverts, nosing at the books on the table and flipping to the covers to read their titles, “ _Research Methods in Biomechanics,_ oh I love a bit of biomechanics, I think it’s so interesting.” 

“Nearly there,” Yaz sighs, accepting the change of subject and taking a sip of her coffee. “Almost at the conclusion now, though I bloody hate them.”

“What, conclusions?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re pointless. You _just_ read the essay, _why_ do I need to tell you about what you just read? You’re not a bloody goldfish surely you can remember. Sorry, probably shouldn’t be saying this to you.” Yaz grimaces, remembering suddenly that she’s not venting her anger about conclusions to another student, but a lecturer. 

Eyes glancing around their vicinity, Elliot’s leans a little closer across the table, “As a lecturer I should probably tell you about how brilliant conclusions are and how they are very important to an essay but — honestly? I think conclusions are rubbish.” Elliot says, nose scrunching around the admission. 

“You — agree?” Yaz breathes in bewilderment. 

“I do.” Elliot nods resolutely, “I’ll never forget nearly finishing my thesis for my doctorate and then realising I had to write a whole conclusion on what I spoke about for _sixty thousand words._ I mean, I suppose a conclusion seems to have more point then because it’s a massive body of work but I were still fuming. But a conclusion on a what? Three? Four?”

“Four.”

“Four thousand word essay? Completely pointless in my opinion. I wish I were allowed to tell my students not to bother but…” 

“God I wish you one of my lecturers,” Yaz laughs quietly and Elliot chuckles along with her. 

“Very kind of you, Yaz.” Elliot smiles sincerely before shucking the sleeve of her blazer back to check the time on her watch. A watch that Yaz thinks from the looks of it is probably worth her flat ten times over. “I mean, I don’t have anymore classes today and I’ve got nowhere to be until later — want any help with your conclusion?”

“Isn’t that like, illegal?”

Elliot’s lips pull tight to hold back a laugh, “No, Yaz, it’s not illegal. It won’t be help as such, me _guiding_ you in the right direction.” she suggests with implication. 

“Well, if that’s the case, then defo.” Yaz grins and Elliot flashes one back before sliding out her side of the booth and into Yaz’s.

“Right, budge up then.”

Startled, Yaz can do nothing but comply as the scent of Elliot’s perfume — fresh, slightly sweet and with a hint of something floral — hits Yaz and sends her dizzy. 

“Do you mind if I have a quick read through?” Elliot asks, eyes wide and curious when she looks to Yaz.

“No,” Yaz rasps, suddenly aware of her very dry throat as she reaches for her coffee to take a big swig.

“Brilliant. Don’t worry, won’t take me long. I’m a fast reader.” Elliot declares as she pulls out a pair of glasses — _Prada,_ Yaz notices — from her inside pocket and slips them onto her nose. She watches as Elliot’s gaze flits over the page, soon scrolling deeper into the document and absorbing every word Yaz has typed. 

It’s only a couple of minutes later when Elliot sits up in completion of her task.

“You weren’t kidding about being a fast reader.” Yaz mutters in awe.

“Nope. I also have a photographic memory. Very handy. Now, really good stuff here Yaz, so what I would _suggest_ you start with is…” 

The two women end up sitting in the library for another two hours as Yaz works on her essay, finishing her conclusion with Elliot’s assistance and sorting out her references while the woman next to her reads through one of the books on the table in companionable silence. 

It’s only then, when Yaz realises Elliot has no real need to be there other than she must be enjoying the company as much as Yaz, that she understands her relationship with Elliot isn’t a typical one that a student and lecturer usually have. Yaz sees Elliot as more of a friend than a lecturer, and she hopes that the other woman sees it the same.

At her very own personal conclusion, one that she finds isn’t pointless at all, Yaz smiles quietly to herself as she types out her last reference. A part of her is sad to finish, her completion meaning an inevitable departure from Elliot, yet, the essay has been a pain in her ass and she’s glad it’s done. 

As she presses the full stop key for the final time, Yaz sits back with a relieved sigh that grabs Elliot’s attention. “Done?”

“Done.” Yaz nods. 

“Congrats! Excellent work,Yaz. It reads wonderfully so I wouldn’t worry about a bad grade on that. Um — not that I’m saying any of your other work is bad, what I mean is I’m sure—”

“I know what you mean, Elliot. Thank you. Now, how would you feel about writing the rest of my dissertation for me?” 

Elliot scoffs in reply, “Nice try, Yaz.” Closing the book she’s reading, Elliot pulls her glasses off her face and stuffs them back in her pocket, “Was that your last essay of the semester or do you have anymore?”

“Last one, thank God. Still got my diss to work on over the break though.”

“That’s good. Just don’t let your dissertation consume too much of your break though okay, Yaz? It’s called break for a reason. Anyway, if you’re done here do you need a lift home? It’s dark out.”

Glancing out the wall of windows to her side, Yaz takes in the dark sky and looming clouds that are visible in the glow of the street lamps. Eyes flitting to the corner of her laptop screen Yaz gasps, “Bloody hell, it’s almost 7 o’clock. No, Elliot, I’ve kept you way too long anyway, I can’t.”

“Yaz,” Elliot waits until she catches Yaz’s gaze before speaking again, “I’m offering. I really don’t mind.”

“But you said earlier you—”

“I said later. I’m not meeting them until nine. So, Yaz, would you like a lift home?” 

“Um — yes please.” 

“Fab. Because,” Elliot focuses her gaze on her phone screen, “my weather app says it’s freezing out and that it’s gonna start raining any minute so I’d rather make sure you get home safe.” 

“Thank you, Elliot.” Yaz says shyly as she starts packing away, the other woman helps her out by taking books back to their respective shelves. By the time she returns, Yaz has shrugged on her fluffy brown coat, stuck a beanie on her head and set her bag comfortably over her shoulders. 

“Ready?” Elliot asks with an infectious smile.

“Ready.” Yaz affirms as they make their way toward the library exit. 

It doesn’t take them long to get to the half empty car park where street lamps light up the blue of Elliot’s car. Yaz watches in awe at the car door lifts upwards when she opens it before dropping onto the cool leather seat. The car starts up with a roar, the interior lighting up with cool blues and warm oranges as _Fleetwood Mac_ streams soothingly from the car's speakers. Rubbing her hands together with an exaggerated shiver, Elliot moves to hover her finger over a button before turning to Yaz, “I’ve got heated seats, do you want yours on? I know I do, I’m freezing my butt off.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” Yaz nods hastily, inwardly agreeing with Elliot’s statement about a cold butt. 

“Oh! And can you pop your address in the sat-nav?” Elliot says as she points to the screen, “Can hardly drop you back if I don’t know where I’m going.” 

As Elliot reverses out her space, Yaz types her address in, the sat-nav calculating their route just as Elliot pulls up to the car park’s exit. By the time they’re on the road, Yaz can already feel the seat warming underneath her as the car reaches a cosy temperature in mere minutes. 

They drive in companionable silence, Elliot now humming along to _Abba’s Dancing Queen_ while Yaz watches the city pass her by through the window. 

The streets around them buzz with the bustle of post-work crowds and students already starting their nights out. Bars and pubs are lit up as they drive past them in a slow blur and mesh of different streaming colours. The calming drive helps remind Yaz of how much she loves the city. 

It’s another ten minutes before they pull up outside Yaz’s building, the crisp blue of Elliot’s car a stark contrast against the surrounding area. “Here you are.” Elliot says as she pulls up the handbrake and shifts the gears into neutral. 

“Thank you so much, Elliot, honestly. You didn’t have to.” 

“But—”

“You offered. I know, but still. It was very kind of you.”

“Not a problem, Yaz.”

Hesitant to leave, the two women end up sitting in a charged silence full of unspoken words and offerings as their eyes lock, both them reluctant to break off their silent communication. Yaz takes the time to examine Elliot’s features in the dim moonlight and occasionally flickering street lamp next to the still quietly rumbling car. The shadows define her jaw and the curve of her nose, enhance the small creases at the corner of her eyes and her slightly uneven upper lip. Though even in the dark of the shadows, nothing is capable of dimming the brightness of her eyes. The melding of pale green and hazel to create secret flecks of gold that only some are lucky enough to be in a close enough proximity to witness.

Tonight Yaz is extremely lucky.

Yet, before she can do anything stupid, Yaz pulls herself out of everything that is Dr Elliot Smith and back into the real world. She clears her throat, cutting off their communication with a blink and the turn of her head to find her bag. 

“Thanks again, Elliot. For the help and the lift. I appreciate it so much, seriously.” she reiterates as she reaches for the handle of the car door. 

“My pleasure, Yaz. See you soon?”

Yaz tugs the handle and the car door lifts with a hiss as the cold breeze rushes in and nips at their exposed flesh. 

“See you soon.” she confirms softly before lifting herself out the car shutting the door behind her. 

* * *

The last day of term means a big night out for the students of Yaz’s university as they cram themselves in bar after bar and consume copious amounts of alcohol in celebration of the holidays. 

Yaz and Bill sit together in their cramped lounge, music blasting from Bill’s speaker as they sit on the floor opposite their mirrors painting their faces ready for the night to bear witness to. While Bill brushes her lids with eyeliner, Yaz paints her lips a deep red, popping them in finality as she checks her face over. 

Satisfied, Yaz stands to check over her outfit in the full length mirror. She’s opted for a tight black turtleneck and her oxblood leather jacket with a double chain necklace hanging loose against her chest. Black jeans hug strong thighs and a pair of chelsea boots complete the look. She ruffles her curls to drape gracefully over her shoulders and tugs her jacket closer before turning to Bill. 

“How do I look?”

Bill gives her once over and nods, “Fit.”

“Great,” Yaz walks over the fridge and tugs it open, pulling out two bottles, “Beer?”

After a couple of bottles by themselves, Bill and Yaz head down two floors to their friends to start pre-drinks before making their way into the city. 

By the time they leave, everyone is suitably inebriated to the point that the bitter wind has little affect as a blanket of alcohol protects them against its bite. Yaz and Bill walk arm in arm, Christmas lights guiding their way along the crowded street until the group reach a bar on the corner and Bill detaches herself from Yaz to stand in front of them all.

“Right lads, this is _the_ most expensive bar of the night. Get it over and done with. Proper fancy, proper posh — so behave yourselves. Especially you Mickey.” Bill points at the young man who throws his hands up in faux innocence. 

Stepping inside after a brief pause from a bouncer Yaz has to remember to take a breath. The lights are low but warm, deep reds lighting up in strips where the wall meets the ceiling. Tables are scattered good distances apart to allow private chatter, small candles keeping their centres aglow and casting shadows on patrons faces. Every glass is cut to perfection as customers sip on eccentric cocktails while gentle low-fi beats pump in the background. 

“Bloody hell, Bill,” Is the first thing that comes to Yaz’s mind.

“Yeah — you don’t say.”

“Are you sure we’re actually gonna be able to afford anything in here? I mean I know I’ve been saving for this but…”

“Like I said, one drink. Come on let’s go find a table while the others grab their drinks.”

Finding a rounded booth up the back, Bill and Yaz slide in comfortably. “Tell you what, Yaz, I’m so glad you could make this. Honestly your boss can fuck off.”

“I know! I can’t believe him, trying to claim my holiday didn’t go through. He’s tried that before you know and he got away with it the first time so I couldn’t go home.”

“What a twat.” 

“Too right.” Yaz agrees with a huff, “Anyway enough of work. I’m sick of it after this week.”

Bill and Yaz continue to chat idly about their weeks, though Bill has more talk about with her work not being so life consuming as Yaz’s, until their friends return with their drinks. 

Slipping out of the booth, the two women head over to the now busier bar, waiting impatiently until Bill loses hers and tries the other end, leaving Yaz to stand alone ready to nick the first empty spot. When an opportunity arises, Yaz slides into the space a burly looking man leaves and rests her forearms against the glistening bar top with a relieved sigh. One step down, one to go. 

Yet, just as she’s about to catch the bartender's attention, she hears her name spoken by the person on the stool next to her. “Yaz?”

When Yaz turns her head to gauge who just called her name, surprise is an understatement.

“Elliot,” Yaz breathes, voice lost to the depths of the bar as she reigns in the shock that forces her mouth to drop open at the sight of the older woman.

“What are the chances, eh?!” Elliot quips, her own voice full of just as much surprise.

The alcohol in Yaz’s system means it’s too late to think about it when her gaze roams over Elliot’s form. Tonight she’s dressed in a wine red pantsuit, a crisp white shirt underneath with a black tie hanging neatly around her neck in a simple knot. A black handkerchief sticks out her breast pocket and black brogues dress her feet.

“You look good,” Yaz blurts out before she can stop herself, alcohol loosening her lips.

“You too,” Is the response she receives from Elliot that she doesn’t expect. She feels herself flush in the already warm bar and shifts on the spot bashfully.

“Thanks.”

“Um — Can I buy you a drink?” Elliot asks politely, though she’s already fishing her wallet out of her pocket. 

“Oh! No, it’s fine,” Yaz brushes off though she’d like nothing more, for her heart’s sake and her bank’s, “I’ve saved up for this night so it’s really okay.”

“Yaz. I’m stupidly rich remember? You’d be silly not to let me buy you one, really.” 

Briefly considering Elliots statement, Yaz knows the woman is absolutely right, so she nods in agreement, “Yeah, okay.” 

“Brilliant,” Elliot grins excitedly, “what would you like? And don’t restrict yourself to be polite, the menu is your oyster, pick anything you want. Seriously.” 

As Yaz scans the drinks menu, and the prices, she becomes increasingly grateful for Elliot’s offer and increasingly guilty that Bill wandered off to buy her own. Finally she makes a decision. 

“Can I get a margarita, if that’s alright?” 

“Course you can! You know, thinking about it I don’t think I’ve ever actually had a margarita before. Are they nice?”

“They are, but you’ve got to like tequila to enjoy it.” 

Elliot ponders for a moment before she manages to grab the bartender’s attention and flashes them a charming smile. “Two margaritas please!” 

“You having one as well?” 

“Why not?” Elliot beams and Yaz feels her own lips twitching upwards at the infectious expression. 

“Be it on your head if you hate it.” Yaz shrugs smugly.

“I’ll just buy something else if I don’t!” 

“What were you drinking anyway?” Yaz asks while they wait for their cocktails.

“Gin and tonic. So pretty boring compared to what you wanted.”

“That all depends on the gin you chose.”

“Pink gin, only because it’s so sweet.”

“Oh my God,” Yaz laughs.

“What?”

“You’re a basic bitch.” 

“Wh—” Elliot stutters in sudden confusion, “I am not!”

“Yes you are!” Yaz chuckles while Elliot sits there in total bewilderment. After a moment, Yaz decides to finally put her at ease, “No I’m only joking, but I’m still glad I’ve persuaded you into something way better.”

“What even is a basic bitch?” 

Their drinks are placed down in front of them before Yaz has the chance to answer and she pulls her glass a little closer while Elliot taps her card against the machine. Once the bartender has moved on, both women lift their glasses and cheers, precariously clinking them together before both taking a sip. Yaz observes Elliot’s reaction, almost snorting into her drink as she watches the other woman’s face scrunch up at the sour taste.

“So…” Yaz starts, “What do you think?”

“Um — yeah, nice.” Elliot lies, placing the glass down.

“Not how you thought it’d taste?”

“Not at all,” she rasps with a shake of her head before reluctantly picking up the glass again to take another sip. 

“You don’t have to drink that,” Yaz insists as Elliot winces when the flavour hits her tongue.

Nodding, Elliot places the glass back down, “Thank you. You have it instead.” 

“Why don’t we find you something more to your tastes, eh?” Yaz asks, grabbing the menu and giving it a quick scan. 

“What about your mates?” Elliot asks with badly concealed disappointment.

“What about yours?”

“I’m here by myself.”

“My mates’ll be fine,” Yaz waves off, already sucked into the addictive aura of Dr Elliot Smith. “Now what flavours do you like?” 

“Sweet.”

Right… okay,” Yaz lifts herself onto the spare stool while she looks over the abundance of cocktails. “How about a strawberry daiquiri, they’re proper sweet.”

“Sounds right up my alley.” 

While they wait for the bartender to come back near them, Yaz and Elliot chat away. Yaz takes in and treasures every piece of information Elliot offers her, allowing herself to get engrossed in the conversation, right up until her phone buzzes in her back pocket. She pulls it out to check it while Elliot pays for her drink to find a couple of texts from Bill.

_Bill [21:32]: Yaz where u at?_

_Bill [21:32]: We’re leaving soon_

When Yaz glances up, Elliot is almost finished paying so she shoots off a quick text in reply.

_Yaz [21:33]: Met someone at the bar, you guys go ahead_

Yaz isn’t surprised by Bill’s immediate response.

_Bill [21:33]: Go on girl!! I’ll miss u tho_

_Bill [21:33]: Be safe tho please let me know where u are ok? X_

_Yaz [21:33]: I will don’t worry x_

Putting her phone away, Yaz glances up to find Elliot’s gentle eyes already on her as she sips her new cocktail through a straw. 

“Well?”

With a lick of her lips, Elliot smiles, “Way better.” 

After another sip of her drink, Elliot pushes the conversation forward, “So, Yaz, _why_ sport and exercise science? Don’t think I ever asked.”

“Well I loved PE at school. It was probably like, the one subject where the class didn’t really have the time or chance to bully me because I’m actually good at sport.” Yaz tries to look past Elliot’s frown, at the brief mention of her high school struggles, “Anyway, I took it at GCSE and found the written work just as fascinating, how the body worked, you know?”

“Yeah, the body is amazing, that’s why I love biology so much, that was almost my specialism but my love for physics was too strong. I did my degrees here too, you know?”

“Really?” 

Elliot hums in agreement around her straw. 

“I almost didn’t come to London for mine.”

“Why not?” Elliot asks curiously, shuffling a touch closer on her stool.

“Because it’s so expensive, and I’m suffering for it. But I wouldn’t ever change my mind. I love the city and the course too much.”

“Did you study something similar at college, then?”

“Yep. But the year I was supposed to come here I broke my ankle in the summer so I deferred a year and now somehow me being one year older than pretty much all my mates dubs me the mum friend on nights out.”

“What they gonna do without you tonight?” Elliot quips playfully. 

“God knows,” Yaz laughs, “It’ll be messy I can tell you that. Bill probably won’t shift from her bed all day tomorrow. But what about you?” she asks with intrigue, “Why London?”

“Oh, well, Yorkshire was too small for me — and I found my dream home here so it were a no brainer really.”

“How very humble of you, what is it, a mansion?”

“Nah, they were all too much to maintain, who can be bothered with that?” Elliot jokes back, keeping up with Yaz’s banter.

After a brief pause of lingering eye contact, Elliot’s hand boldly lifts to clasp the pendant of Yaz’s necklace between her fingers, “I like this.” 

“Thanks, pretty sure it’s Topshop to be honest, so nothing special.”

“Nonsense,” Elliot lightly chides, “It looks lovely on you.” 

Unsure of how to respond to the compliment, Yaz takes a sip of her drink with a bashful smile.

As the two women chat deeper in the night and the lights of the bar dim further, the beats of the music pulse heavier through the space and rumble low in Yaz’s chest as the people around them speak louder to hear each other. It’s no different for them, it seems, when Elliot shuffles her stool further forward and their knees bump gently. 

They’re a couple more drinks in now, Elliot paying every time as they test out the array of cocktails on offer and the alcohol makes them both a little braver. The proximity of Elliot means the scent of her perfume is enough to intoxicate Yaz in an entirely different way to the drink in her hand, especially when Yaz cracks a joke and Elliot laughs so hard her hand falls to Yaz’s thigh.

When she calms down, the hand doesn’t move away. 

Both women glance down to acknowledge it before finding each other's darkened gaze, the implications heavy between them when Elliot squeezes lightly and it sends a jolt of heat through Yaz’s form.

Yaz barely has time to catch her breath when Elliot swiftly moves forward, leaning to the side at the last second to tuck a piece of Yaz’s hair behind her ear, her hand stays resting on Yaz’s shoulder while her lips linger inches from her lobe, “You know, I’m so glad the lift doors opened on you that day.” 

Leaning forward a touch herself, the scent of lemon shampoo catches on Yaz’s nose when blonde locks brush lightly against her, “Yeah?” she breathes, letting it linger.

“Yes, because that’s the first proper chance I got to speak to you. Imagine if that didn’t happen,” Elliot pulls away in search of Yaz’s gaze, “Imagine if I still didn’t know you.” 

“Elliot,” Yaz sighs, catching the way Elliot’s eyes dip lower briefly.

“Did I mention how lovely you look tonight, Yaz?” she utters into the microscopic space between them and it takes all of Yaz’s self control not to throw herself forward. 

“Yeah, you did.” 

“Well, I’ll happily tell you again because you look amazing.”

Yaz feels her breath stutter when Elliot’s gaze drops to rake over her form like she’s ready to eat the ripest of fruits. 

“I’ve already said it as well but so do you.” Yaz returns, fingertips lifting to cautiously curl around the end of Elliot’s tie.

“Yaz?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Yaz swears her heart skips a beat in her chest and her breath catches in her throat at the question. She watches as Elliot’s gaze darts all over her features, gauging Yaz’s response. 

To hell with self control, Yaz thinks, when she replies, “Yes.”

And she lets Elliot make the first move.

Yaz’s heart pounds in her chest when Elliot’s hand moves from her shoulder to slide around the back of her neck, fingers tickling lightly at fine hairs as she dips forward and lingers for a moment to let her warm breath brush over Yaz’s lips before finally closing the agonising gap between them.

When Yaz is granted with the delicious pressure of Elliot’s lips, soft and inviting, the first thing she tastes is the sweetness of the cocktails the woman has consumed throughout the night, strawberry prevalent on her tongue when it dips teasingly past Yaz’s lips. An addictive heat washes over Yaz’s form as she pulls the woman closer by the tip of her tie, taking pleasure in the vibration of an approving hum against her lips. 

Both women are reluctant to pull apart, but when they do, they’re breathless with a desperation for so much more. Elliot’s gaze is heady when Yaz finds it again, and she already knows she wants Elliot to look at her like that forever. So, she’s pleasantly surprised by the next words to fall from Elliot’s lips.

“Come back to mine, Yaz, please.”

Yaz doesn’t even need to think about her response when she answers, “Yes,” with an eager nod.

She almost laughs as she watches Elliot neck back the remainder of her drink with haste, but before she can stand, Yaz drags her back into another kiss. It’s hot and incentivising when she licks along Elliot’s bottom lip in the promise of a long night. She pulls away to find a stunned Elliot staring back at her and stands to offer a hand that the other woman silently takes, interweaving their fingers as they head for the bar's exit.

When they step outside and the cold night air hits them, the reality of what is about to happen crashes down on Yaz as a longing heat stirs in the pit of her stomach. 

She only zones back in when she hears Elliot’s voice speak into her phone.

“Hi, I need a taxi, please.”


	2. Ain't no stopping your plans and those slow hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for the response on this lads i really wasn't expecting it!! so enjoy the filth xo

The taxi drive is excruciating.

London traffic slows them down and Elliot’s hand rests on Yaz’s inner thigh as they drive tediously through the city, Yaz’s impatience spreading thinner every time their eyes catch in the secluded cab. It takes all of Yaz’s strength not to jump Elliot right there and then. When they finally pull up outside the high rise Elliot calls home, it’s at that point Yaz realises she should probably text Bill.

_ Yaz [00:45]: Won’t be home tonight, see you in the morning x _

After putting her phone away, Yaz glaces up to see Elliot shoving a bunch of money through the gap in the screen and opening her cab door. Yet, before Yaz has the chance to open her own, Elliot has already rounded on her side and opened it for her. Taking the other woman’s hand, Yaz steps out with a thank you to the driver and the two of them start heading toward the building. When they step through the doors into the foyer, Yaz can’t quite believe where she is. 

As they head inside, they walk past two security guards that Elliot greets knowingly and into the echoing expanse of the main entrance. The floor is all lavish marble that glistens in the lights of the crystalline chandelier that hangs above them as it swoops low into the space above. To her left is a smart looking seating area with red leather sofas and a sheepskin rug, and either side of the oak reception desk are vast, marble staircases, carpeted with plush red that leads up to the first floor balcony. 

Elliot greets the woman on reception before taking them to the right side of the foyer where one single lift stands waiting for them. When Yaz looks behind them to take in as much of the foyer as she can in awe, she spots a row of three lifts on the opposite side of the room. When Elliot spots her observation, she’s ready with an explanation.

“Oh, those lifts take you to any floor apart from the penthouse.”

“We’re going to the penthouse?” Yaz mumbles in surprise.

“Well it’s where I live so, yes.” Elliot quips lightly, briefly relinquishing her hold on Yaz’s hand to pull a keycard from her wallet and scan it on the side of the lift, the doors instantly opening in invitation. 

Clasping Yaz’s hand again, Elliot steps them inside and presses the button to take them up.

The doors slowly slide shut on the two women, leaving them in a charged silence until the next sound that fills the lift is Yaz’s back thumping against the wall as Elliot pushes her against it, hands cupping her face as she leans in to capture her lips with fervour. 

The tang of alcohol is still prevalent on Elliot’s tongue when it pushes past Yaz’s lips, sweet and sour mixing from their respective cocktails as Yaz pulls the older woman closer by the lapels of her blazer until they’re chest to chest with an approving hum on both ends.

Their hands roam as they kiss against the cold elevator wall, exploring through adrenaline fuelled tugs and squeezes until Elliot’s hand scopes lower and finds Yaz’s backside. Yaz presses herself closer to the other woman, eager for more when she finds the knot of her tie and tugs it loose just as the doors slide open to an empty corridor. 

The sudden warm light pulls them apart and out of the moment, stepping away from each other with messy hair and rugged clothes as they step out of the lift. At the end of the corridor is a large oak door with two potted plants either side that they head toward. On their short journey, they walk past another door on the left and Yaz asks where it leads.

“Oh, that takes you up to the helipad.”

“The _—_ helipad?” Yaz stammers, though by this point she should know better than to be surprised by Elliot’s wealth, especially when she steps through the door and into the penthouse. 

Glass windows cover an entire wall, the city bright and buzzing below as Yaz takes in the sights of London like she’s never had the chance to experience before. Big Ben sits proud in the distance, along with the London Eye and the headlights of cars making their way through the city light up the roads in one massive map for Yaz to figure out. 

Though when she turns to take in the rest of the penthouse, Yaz barely knows where to start. Nowhere is blocked off by walls, the entire apartment open plan with a sleek kitchen up a step on one side of the room with shining white cupboards and sparkling black countertops. An island sits in the middle, making the kitchen feel more communal even though only one person lives in the space, and a huge wine rack rests next to a fridge that Yaz can barely comprehend the size of when she watches Elliot pour them both glasses of water with the press of a button on its front. 

Yaz moves to take in the lounge area where a massive purple soft rests, covered in plush cushions and throws, the L shape giving some form of closure to space to keep it cosy. An almost cinema size television perches on the wall opposite the sofa. Speakers sit either side of it, and an overstuffed bookcase underneath as it leaks onto the coffee table where piles of books rest. Yaz’s tipsy mind can barely comprehend the complex sciences that engrave themselves in the spine of the books.

After taking in as much as she can for now, Yaz heads back to the kitchen to accept the glass of water from Elliot and take a sip. Taking a swig, Yaz looks back to the expanse of the penthouse. 

“This is insane,” she laughs. 

“Really?” Elliot asks genuinely.

“Um _—_ yes! Elliot, I’ve literally _—_ I’ve  _ never  _ seen anything like this. I know this is probably your normal but flippin’ heck. Something in my tiny, shitty, flat breaks like every week and half the time the landlord doesn’t bother to fix it. I’ve not had a working microwave for three months and yours is embedded  _ into  _ your kitchen cupboards.”

“Sorry, you’re right. I don’t know any better. It’s not off-putting though, is it?” Elliot worries her lip as she taps the side of her perspiring glass. 

Yaz softens then as she sees Elliot’s honest concern. Finding her hand on the counter, she places her own over the top. “No, it’s not. It’s just a lot to take in. But I can get used to it. Either way, I’d like you if you were as broke as me, Elliot.” Yaz chuckles. 

“Also, I can buy you a new microwave, if you like.” 

“Might take you up on that, it were crap even before it broke.”

When silence settles between them, hazel-green eyes lock with caramel irises as unspoken suggestion connects through their intense gaze.

“Yaz?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to see the rest of the apartment?” Elliot asks. The implication is there, no longer silent. Really, she’s asking  _ ‘shall we take this to the bedroom’  _ and they both know it. So it’s easy for Yaz to respond. 

“Yes.”

“Come with me,” Ellliot says, twisting her hand on the countertop to link her and Yaz’s fingers together and lead them to the staircase that sits before the kitchen. It curls around and up, taking them onto an overhang that sits above the kitchen. When Yaz peers over the balcony, the rest of the apartment stands below her, warm and spacious and inviting. Whether she’s looking at the view of the apartment or the view of the city it still blows her away each time.

Turning back to the space, Yaz spies the bed sitting at its centre, headboard back against the wall with the floor-to-ceiling windows at its right from Yaz’s point-of-view. Warm, floor standing lamps sit in each corner, lighting the room in a cosy yellow glow and illuminating the deep blue covers of the bed sheets. A set of double doors sit in the centre of the wall opposite to the windows and Yaz frowns with intrigue.

“Walk-in wardrobe,” Elliot reveals with a sly grin.

“Of course,” Yaz laughs, because at this point it's all she can think to do as the money she is walking on continues to baffle her. 

Yaz steps closer to the bed and watches as Elliot kicks her brogues off and throws her blazer to drape over the balcony. 

“Your bed is massive,” Yaz states as she toes her own boots off. 

“It’s queen size,” Elliot replies with a shrug.

“I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Probably not, no.”

Elliot closes in on Yaz then, standing in front of her, taller by just a couple of inches as she brushes Yaz’s cheek with the backs of her knuckles. Leaning in, Elliot’s lips find Yaz own in a tentative kiss, calmer and more careful than any of their others so far, pulling back just a fraction to seek approval. Yaz nods her head in consent, and Elliot wastes no time dipping back in, harder this time as her hands move to slip Yaz’s jacket from her shoulders and drop to rest on her hips. Elliot’s hands don’t stay still for long though, soon shifting to roam over Yaz’s back, pulling her closer and deeper into the kiss before trailing her fingertips down Yaz’s spine and sending a shiver through her body at the careful touch. 

Their mouths part only briefly when Yaz leans back to find the loosened knot of Elliot’s tie. “This needs to come off,” she quips while untying the silken fabric until it drapes loosely around Elliot’s neck. 

Yaz uses the opportunity to grab the tie ends and pull Elliot forward, slowly backing them up onto the bed until they fall less than gracefully onto the sheets with a laugh.

“Smooth,” Elliot chuckles between a kiss. 

“I know, all the rom-coms make it look easy,” Yaz jokes.

Elliot’s tongue finds Yaz’s mouth when she seeks her out again while Yaz discards her tie to the room and works on the buttons of Elliot’s shirt. Pulling back to sit on her haunches, Yaz follows Elliot up to help tug the garment from her shoulders, revealing a nude lace bralette. 

In the warm glow of the room with slightly mussed hair and the delicate colouring of her bralette against pale skin, Yaz savours how soft Elliot looks, taking her own personal picture and framing it in her mind. Her hands quickly find Elliot’s lithe form, running up her sides and down her toned stomach and indulging in the gentle sighs that leave Elliot’s kiss-swollen lips. 

“You feel good,” Yaz sighs as her fingertips brush over Elliot’s ribs and tease at the fabric of her bralette. 

“I bet you do, too,” Elliot suggests as she untucks Yaz’s jumper and helps tug it over her head, soft curls bouncing against her shoulders once free from the restraints of the fabric. The grin on Elliot’s face only helps to boost Yaz’s ego. “And I was right.”

Yaz chuckles lightly into the kiss Elliot grants her, the sound melding into a quiet moan when a tongue licks along her teeth and into mouth while the plush sheets greet her back again and hands roam along toned abs, muscles flexing underneath the tentative touches. 

Elliot’s mouth soon moves to attack Yaz’s neck, leaving hot kisses against her pulse point with the experimental nip of her teeth that Yaz encourages with a hand through silken blonde locks. 

For a moment, she loses her breath when Elliot bites down and sucks a reddening mark in the crook of her neck, soothing it with the lap of a soothing tongue that falls lower to trail along a protruding collarbone and nip at the fine skin that stretches across the sensitive area. Elliot’s name slips hoarsely from Yaz’s lips when one hand pushes beneath the fabric of her bra and squeezes lightly while her other hand acts as a pillow for Yaz’s cheek while her mouth continues to assault her neck with wet kisses and scraping teeth. 

Breathless and panting, Elliot allows Yaz a brief moment of calm to pull back and slink her arms around her back, “This needs to go,” she says as she glances to Yaz’s bra.

She finds the clasp when Yaz arches her back slightly, the cool air of the room hitting her chest only for a second until one breast is enveloped by Elliot’s mouth and she barely has time to catch her breath before it’s caught up in a breathy whine. 

Yaz’s hand slips back into Elliot’s hair while the other grips into the sheets and she gives a cautious tug. She gets the response she hopes for when Elliot hums against her chest and ups her enthusiasm. Yaz tugs a little harder then, and Elliot scrapes a dusky nipple with her teeth. Yaz can’t help but rise into the feel of Elliot’s mouth against her as she swirls her tongue around her areola before flicking it over a hard bud while Elliot’s hand moves to massage her other breast and her thigh presses up between Yaz’s legs.

Yaz writhes against Elliot’s thigh, encouraging the other woman to press harder against her and delighting when she does with a soft moan. Pulling away from Yaz’s nipple with a quiet pop, Elliot drags her lips down Yaz’s abs, leaving wet kisses over every inch of heated skin while her hand replaces her thigh between Yaz’s legs and cups her through the fabric of her jeans. Yaz groans, and she’s sure Elliot can feel the heat emanating from her core through the fabric. When Elliot presses up hard enough for the seam to rub against her, Yaz can’t stop the sigh that slips past her lips.

“God, Elliot, don’t stop.”

“If you don’t want me to then I don’t plan to,” she quips in reply as she unfastens her jeans with a skilled hand while the other runs back up to her breast and lightly tugs a nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

Not yet ready to bear Yaz to the room, Elliot slips her hand past the waistband of her jeans, running her fingertips across the damp fabric of Yaz’s underwear, “You’re so wet, Yaz.” 

“I know,” she whines, “You’re driving me mad.”

“Then I shan’t waste time,” Elliot winks, slipping her fingers past Yaz’s underwear and through slippery heat.

Yaz sighs in relief at the feel of Elliot between her legs, even if her movements are still a little teasing in the ways she lightly brushes her clit. Lifting her hips into the touch, she can feel Elliot stay true to her statement when she starts to run tight circles around her swollen bud while leaning down to mouth at Yaz’s chest. 

Before long, the restriction of Yaz’s jeans frustrates them both enough for Elliot to pull back, both of them helping to quickly remove the garment, Yaz’s underwear soon following and leaving her naked to Elliot’s keen eye. She watches in the light of the room how Elliot’s gaze roams her form with a hunger Yaz has never seen. Her hands are instantly back on Yaz, one between her legs and one tracing the hard muscles of her stomach.

“Yaz you’re _—_ you’re like a Goddess.” 

Regardless of the way Elliot’s fingers move against her, Yaz can’t help but snort at the declaration, “Get off,” she dismisses with a flush.

“I’m not kidding, Yaz,” Elliot assures as she leans down to steal a kiss, “It’s like you’ve been carved from marble.” By the way Elliot’s hand spans her abs, it’s obvious what she’s alluding to.

“I’m definitely not,” she sighs, trying to focus on Elliot’s words though the hand between her legs is extremely distracting, “I just work out.” 

“I bet,” Elliot grins in return, moving away from Yaz’s lips to pay even more attention to toned abs with daring nips and swipes of her tongue until she starts to trail lower and her hand falls from between Yaz’s legs to curl around her thigh.

Pausing before she goes further, Elliot waits for the enthusiastic nod and, “Please,” she receives from Yaz’s before lifting her other thigh over her shoulder and holding it in place. 

The first swipe of Elliot’s tongue against her is slow and calculated as it laps between silken folds and gathers up Yaz’s taste. She keeps up a slow rhythm to start with, and every lap of her tongue sends a pulse from Yaz’s core straight to her fingertips, a soft moan falling from her lips as Elliot’s warm mouth envelopes her. 

“You taste amazing,” Elliot smirks from between her thighs, and the glisten of herself on the other woman’s lips sends a jolt of desire burning through Yaz and her head spinning with want. 

“Fuck, Elliot.” Is all Yaz can manage in reply to the statement as she watches the woman’s tongue dark out and flick along her core before her lips latch onto her clit and Yaz’s head falls back into the pillow with a groan. 

Yaz rolls her hips into Elliot’s mouth when she sucks at her gently and shifts below her until Yaz feels a slight pressure at her entrance and only grinds harder into it in a desperate need to be filled by the other woman. 

Grasping for blonde hair, Yaz soon finds it and grips harder when the teasing pressure continues and the vibrations of Elliot’s approving hum has her quivering against the woman’s mouth.

“Elliot, please. God, please,” she whines, panting with need as her chest rises and falls in a flurry of shallow breaths until she moans deeply at the feel of two fingers sliding inside her with ease. 

Elliot pumps her fingers slowly inside while her mouth works against Yaz expertly, driving her toward the edge with diligence as her fingers brush over sensitive walls and her tongue laps rapidly at her clit. 

Yaz can feel a sheen of sweat dampening her skin while Elliot’s fingers pick up the pace, her whole body on fire with the pleasure Elliot is giving her, the heat thrumming low in her stomach building to near combustion as Elliot fucks harder into her, pulling out and pushing a third finger back in knuckle deep while she hooks into her at a punishing pace that has Yaz’s vocabulary diminishing into nothing but Elliot’s name as she writhes against the sheets in an attempt to hold on as long as she can. 

Yaz knows she’s done for when Elliot takes a moment to pull her mouth away. 

“Hand on your chest, Yaz.” she requests with intent, and Yaz is happy to comply when Elliot’s mouth gets back to work.

The hand that isn’t gripping with white knuckles at Elliot’s hair moves to her chest as she cups herself and squeezes, running a thumb over a pebbled nipple just as Elliot presses the flat of her tongue down hard against her clit and that’s when Yaz tips over the edge. She comes hard against Elliot’s mouth and fingers as her whole body tenses, back arching off the bed into her own hand when Elliot’s pace refuses to falter, throwing her right into a second climax that’s just as intense as the first while her thighs shudder and she moans loudly into the room. 

When she finally slumps back into the mattress Elliot carefully slows to a stop, pulling her fingers out and sucking Yaz’s taste between tempting lips that Yaz drags toward her in a messy kiss that has the flavour of only herself but the desire of both them.

“You, ok?” Elliot asks between kisses.

“Yeah, just get these off,” Yaz insists as she fumbles with the belt of Elliot’s trousers.

Just as eager as each other, Elliot sits back to yank off her bralette while Yaz deals with the fastenings, briefly sliding off Yaz’s hips to pull her trousers off along with her rainbow print boxers. Yet, before she has a chance to climb back on top, Yaz rolls over and helps Elliot sit back against the headboard before settling between the older woman’s legs.

Jaw hanging open slightly in surprise, Yaz smirks up at Elliot as she trails kisses along supple thighs, wrapping her hands around to hold her in place as she makes her way toward glistening heat. Deciding there’s no need to waste anymore time, Yaz claims her first taste of the woman above her, moaning against her clit when she hears the sigh that falls from Elliot’s mouth. 

Lapping between soaked folds, Yaz indulges herself in the sweet taste of Elliot against her tongue as she flicks teasingly over her clit before dipping the tip cautiously past her entrance and feeling the woman’s thighs clench at the feeling. 

“Yaz,” she moans, eyes heavy-lidded and lips still parted slightly when Yaz glances up. Elliot’s chest heaves and glistens slightly with a sheen of sweat, the sight making a new flame flicker t o life between Yaz’s legs. 

Eager to please, Yaz’s tongue dips past Elliot’s entrance, her walls quivering around her as she moans hoarsely while her hands anchor themselves in the curls of Yaz’s hair, holding her in place as she pushes inside a touch further and Elliot groans louder.

“Good, Yaz. God, you’re so good.”

Elliot’s words only fan the flame in Yaz’s gut and have her working twice as hard against her, tongue slipping back out to work ravenously at her clit while her hands slip lower to grip at Elliot’s backside and tug her closer.

Yaz soon learns that it’s a good job Elliot lives alone on the top floor because she’s loud, and it’s something Yaz finds she loves as she laps up her juices and swirls her tongue hard enough to get Elliot quivering against her.

“Yaz,” she pants, “I’m gonna come, God, I’m gonna come,” she grunts seconds before she does, gripping tighter in Yaz’s hair as she rolls her hips and moans low and her eyes clamp shut in ecstasy. 

When she relaxes with a content sigh, Yaz pulls away, sitting up on her knees with a lick of her lips before leaning into place a languid kiss against Elliot’s lips as they both sigh into each other's mouths.

“You’re amazing,” Elliot mumbles against Yaz's lips.

“Shut up,” she replies through a huffed laugh and barely there kiss.

“No.”

They both pull away with a laugh before Yaz shifts from between Elliot’s legs and the other woman slides down the headboard and beneath the sheets. The fabric is soft and the bed feels even cosier when Yaz tucks herself up next to Elliot who slinks and arm around her waist in response. They lie there in comfortable silence for a moment until Elliot finally speaks in a quiet whisper.

“Goodnight, Yaz.”

“Night, Elliot,” she responds just as softly before exhaustion kicks in and Yaz lets the lull of sleep wash over her. 

* * *

Yaz is forced from her slumber with a groan by the searing light of the rising sun blazing through the expanse of windows, the brightness assaulting her fragile head as the previous night's alcohol consumption and activities swarm her memories. 

She hears a similar protesting groan next to her and allows her eyes to focus long enough to gauge Elliot’s scrunching features next to her. Pale green eyes flit open and lazily meet Yaz’s.

“God, do you deal with this everyday?” Yaz huffs, burying her face in Elliot’s neck, whining when in protest when she feels the other woman pull away for a moment as she stretches across the bed. 

“No, I forgot to close the blinds down.” she rasps, reaching for a remote on her bedside table and pressing a button that has the blinds climbing down the windows and bathing them in darkness. “Better?”

“Much,” Yaz mumbles back, humming in content when Elliot rolls back and wraps her arms around Yaz’s form.

It takes mere moments for the two women to fall back asleep. 

The next thing that wakes them is the shrill sound of Elliot’s phone blaring into the room. Both women rise with irritated groans as Elliot reaches blindly behind her for the device and answers without looking.

“Hello?” she murmurs hoarsely into the phone.

_ “Wow, you sound like shit.”  _

“Thanks, Donna.” Elliot says as she reluctantly sits up, holding the sheets to her chest.

_ “You go out last night?” _

“Maybe,”

_ “Without me?” _

“I wanted a quiet drink on my own, is that illegal?”

_ “Yes.” _

“Who’s that?” Yaz mumbles without thinking, eyes half open, face half buried in a cushy pillow. 

“My best mate,” Elliot whispers back.

_ “Quiet drink, you said?”  _ Donna quips smugly, clearly having heard Yaz through the microphone. 

“Yep.”

_ “Quiet night?” _

“That’s up for debate,” Elliot smirks and Yaz grins into the pillow.

_ “You’re an animal.”  _

“Am not.” 

_ “So I’m guessing you don’t want me to ‘round tonight? Gonna be too busy for me?” _

“I’m never too busy for you, Donna,” Elliot teases lovingly.

_ “So I’m not bringing vodka with me, then, by the sounds of you?” _

“Absolutely not,” Elliot groans.

_ “Right then, I’ll see you later.” _

“Bye, Donna.”

Elliot drops the phone back on the bedside table and slumps back into the mattress with a grunt before turning her head to face Yaz. “Donna’s my best mate, known her since uni. We were in halls together.”

At the thought, Yaz laughs and Elliot frowns at her response. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, just thinking of you actually in uni, like my age, on proper nights out.”

“Oi, they were great nights out I’ll have you know. I used to buy everyone's drinks so we always ended up pretty wasted.”

“Now that doesn’t surprise me,” Yaz smiles playfully, watching the glint that appears in Elliot’s eye. “What?”

“Come here,” Elliot says lazily, gesturing for Yaz to move closer with a roll of her neck.

When she sits up, Elliot reaches for her hip and guides Yaz onto her lap, bringing her closer by wrapping her arms around her lower back. Yaz gets the hint when Elliot’s gaze drops to her lips, cupping her neck and happily granting her the kiss she silently craves. It's slow and languid as Elliot slips a tongue past Yaz’s lips and her hands run up and down her back until one slinks around her front to cup her breast and give a gentle squeeze that Yaz leans into with a hum of approval. A smooth thumb brushes over her nipple while Elliot’s lips grace Yaz’s jaw and neck, leaving soft kisses over purple marks from the night before. 

Yaz sighs when Elliot’s hand leaves her chest and starts to dip lower before pausing. Finding Elliot’s hand, Yaz guides it lower.

“You’re good, keep going,” she insists with an encouraging smile, revelling in the hand that moves to squeeze her hip when Elliot’s fingers meet the heat burning between Yaz’s legs and leaves her soft and pliant under the other woman’s fingertips. 

Yaz is slick and hot against Elliot’s fingers as she runs through velvet folds before lazily circling her clit and seeking Yaz’s mouth. They moan into the kiss and Yaz rocks into Elliot’s hand, grinding harder in search of more pressure. The hand on her hip guides her movements, leaving crescent moons in dark flesh while a single digit slides gently inside Yaz, adding to the slick sounds that fill the room. Yaz moans softly into Elliot’s mouth, only pulling away for air as a thin string of saliva bridges the gap between kiss swollen lips. 

“You feel good,” Elliot murmurs intimately between them as her finger slowly pumps into Yaz while her thumb circles her swollen clit.

Arms falling to drape over Elliot’s shoulders, Yaz’s face finds the crook of Elliot’s neck, leaving faint kisses against the sensitive skin behind her ear and at her pulse point as she feels it thump hard beneath her lips. A second digit joins the first when Yaz tugs Elliot’s ear lobe gently between her teeth, catching the stammer of breath that comes with the action and taking note of it for future reference. 

Between her legs, Elliot picks up the pace a little, using the hand on Yaz’s hip to bring her down harder as the knot in her stomach coils tighter with every thrust, with every brush of Elliot’s talented fingers over her inner walls and how they crook inside her. 

It doesn’t take long for Yaz to come after that, the languid movements of them both easing her toward the precipice where she slowly falls over the edge with Elliot’s name on her lips as she shudders breathlessly against her hand. 

With a delicate kiss, Elliot slowly pulls out before guiding Yaz off her lap to lay down next to her. 

“Think that’s probably the best way I’ve ever woken up,” Yaz pants as her chest flutters at Elliot’s resounding laugh. 

“Agreed,” she replies, “If you want to use the bathroom, Yaz, it’s downstairs and straight ahead.” 

“Thanks,” she smiles, sitting up on an elbow to lean over and depart from the bed with a kiss. 

Feeling emboldened by the way Elliot’s eyes roam her naked form as she pulls back the sheets, Yaz makes her way through the penthouse stark naked to the bathroom. She has to find her breath in the size of the room when she enters. To her left is a waterfall shower with a glass screen, to her right is a small sauna, and past the shower on the left wall are his and hers sinks with mirrors to match. On the back wall sits the toilet and a large bath to its right with a view of the city as its backdrop. With the sun now having risen, it’s truly a sight to behold. 

“Well she doesn’t do things by halves,” Is all Yaz can muster to herself as she makes her way back to the shower and lets the water pour over her. The temperature is perfect and the shower gel she uses is intoxicating and recognisable as something she caught the previous night on Elliot’s smooth skin. 

Yaz is so caught up in the soothing warmth of the water against her skin that she doesn’t notice anyone else joining her until a pair of arms slink around her from behind and a chin rests on her shoulder with a brush of lips against her exposed neck.

“Hi,” Elliot murmurs against her skin.

“Hey,” 

“Thought you might go for the bath.” 

“It is one hell of a view.”

“It’s one of my favourite things about the place.”

“Not the sauna though?” Yaz jokes.

“Well, that too,” Elliot chuckles.

Grasping her waist, Elliot turns Yaz to face her before reaching up to brush a dark curl from her features and leaning down to capture her lips in a wanton kiss. The warm water against their skin and the inviting aromas of the shower gel along with the enclosed space soon has the kiss turning heated when Elliot walks them forward until Yaz’s back hits the cool tiles. 

“Elliot,” she sighs against the other woman’s lips as her hands find wet blonde locks.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“God, no. Just _—_ do you not want me to do anything for you?”

“Right now, Yaz, I can hardly keep my hands off you,” Elliot admits into her damp neck, teeth grazing against Yaz’s flesh.

Well,” Yaz moans quietly, “I’m not gonna stop you.”

Pulling back enough for Yaz to catch her smirk, Elliot plants a kiss on her lips before flipping her face the tiles, chest up against the wall in a shock of cold as Elliot’s front presses up against her back and her hands run hungrily down her sides. 

Between her legs, one of Elliot’s own knocks Yaz’s thighs apart gently to spread her readily for the hand that slides down her front and seeks out her still sensitive clit with a jolt of pleasure through her body. 

With her hands, forehead and chest pressed against the wall, Yaz feels exposed but safe in the arms of Elliot who works her up quickly as the remaining embers of desire from their morning in bed quickly turn into budding flames that lick at her gut. 

“Elliot, fuck, don’t stop,” Yaz pleads and the fingers against her clit run tightly around the swollen bud while her nerve endings light up right through to her fingertips where Elliot’s free hand fits her knuckles between Yaz’s own and gives gentle squeeze. 

After a particularly loud moan that echoes against the walls of the bathroom, Elliot’s lips brush against Yaz’s ear. 

“Come for me, Yaz,” she requests gently and the words are all Yaz needs to reach her peak for the second time that morning. She quivers against Elliot’s deft fingers, knees close to giving out but saved by Elliot holding her up against the wall with surprising strength.

When she catches her breath Yaz turns and slumps against the wall with a laugh, “You’re so good at that,” she sighs and Elliot grins smugly.

“Well, you know,” Elliot shrugs a little awkwardly, “I like to be good at everything I do.”

“I can tell, bloody hell, Elliot.” With a deep breath and heart rate finally slowing down, Yaz plucks a bottle of shampoo from the holder, “Now, do you wanna wash my hair for me?”

With a keen smile, Elliot takes the bottle from her hand, “Yes.”

* * *

It’s another fifteen minutes before they finally step out from under the spray, both clean of the previous night's antics and dressed in fluffy blue robes. 

What Yaz doesn’t expect when she makes her way back through the penthouse, is for the blinds to be up and for someone to be in the kitchen that is neither her nor Elliot. 

Though from Elliot’s delighted smile, he’s no stranger. 

“Morning, Ryan!” she says without a lick of embarrassment at being caught leaving the bathroom with another woman. 

“Alright, Elliot?” he greets as he flips a pancake. 

Looking back to Yaz with a wide grin, Elliot’s features soon morph into an expression of realisation at Yaz’s confused frown.

“Oh! Right, sorry! Yaz, this is Ryan. He’s my personal chef because, well, I can’t cook.” 

“Nice to meet you, Yaz. And she’s right you know, I’ve tried to teach her the basics so many times. Once she managed to set pasta on fire and to this day I still don’t know how she did it. Anyway, why don’t you two sit yourselves down and I’ll bring it out to you,” he says with a friendly smile, pointing to the pancakes with a spatula. 

“Bring it out to us?” Yaz asks, perplexed.

With an excited pull upward at her lips, Elliot clasps Yaz’s hand. “Come with me.” 

After taking them to put on some of the warmest, fluffiest socks Yaz has ever felt on her feet, she walks on what feels like clouds to a balcony she had been yet to see.

“See, I didn’t really get the chance to show you this yesterday,” Elliot starts, gesturing to the view of the city below as it wakes up below them. The occasional beep of a horn drifts up, and the bustle of morning commuters is forever visible no matter the distance from the ground, “But if you like, we can eat breakfast out here?” 

Their altitude makes the winter breeze a little icier, but the curtain of flowers that coat the barristers and the already laid table thanks to Ryan makes it all the more inviting and easier look past the cold weather. Though when Yaz lets an involuntary shiver shake her body, Elliot springs into action, “Oh! Don’t worry, I’ve got heaters!” she announces as she switches them on and the warmth almost instantly envelopes Yaz’s exposed legs.

“Yeah, lets,” Yaz accepts the invitation with an enthusiastic nod and pulls out a table chair. 

“Are you sure? If it’s too cold for you we eat inside?”

“No, I wanna eat out here. Besides, I actually really like sitting in the winter sun.”

“Me too!” Elliot grins back, dropping into the seat opposite and pouring them cups of tea from a china teapot. “Sugar?” she asks, offering a cube.

“Just one, please.” 

Elliot drops one sugar cube into Yaz’s tea before dropping six into her own. Yaz can do nothing but watch in horror.

“What?”

“I can’t believe what I just witnessed.”

“Yaz, I did tell you you’d probably cry if you knew how I took my coffee. You shouldn’t have expected my tea to be any different.”

“So, do you actually take any tea with your sugar?” she jokes, laughing at the unimpressed look Elliot sends your way.

“You’re so funny, Yaz.” she replies sarcastically.

“I know.”

Before Yaz has the chance to tease Elliot further, Ryan steps out with a trolley full of pancakes and an abundance of colourful fruits. “Orders up!” he quips playfully before placing the stack on the table between them.

“Please tell me you like pancakes,” Elliot briefly panics with wide eyes.

“I do, don’t worry,” Yaz reassures.

“Oh, good! Otherwise that would’ve been really awkward.”

Stabbing her fork into the top pancake, Elliot drops it ungracefully onto place before stacking another on top and grabbing a small bowl of assorted berries, “Help yourself, Yaz,” she gestures to the array of food, and Yaz does, placing a couple of pancakes on her own plate and reaching for some sliced bananas. 

Once their pancakes are covered with fruits and maple syrup they both tuck in. 

Yaz moans into the first bite, “Oh my God.”

“I know,” Elliot grins back.

“They’re like _—_ the fluffiest pancakes I think I’ve ever had.” 

“Yep, Ryan’s brilliant.”

“He is!”

They quietly demolish their breakfast, both women starved from how they’d spent their morning and night together, and when Yaz looks out over the city at the way the sun creeps between the buildings below, she doesn’t think she’s ever had a breakfast so fancy.

“You ok?” she hears in her peripheral, and pulls her gaze from the view back Elliot, a sight that is just as delightful.

“Yeah, it’s just _—_ this is crazy.”

“What is?”

“Oh, you know, eating breakfast that was made for me by a personal chef on a penthouse balcony, with a view of the whole city below after having mind blowing sex with a lecturer at my university. Let’s just say it’s not how I expected to start the holidays.”

Elliot hums through a sip of tea, “You’ve got a point there,” she affirms with a scrunch of her nose. Placing her cup back down on its respective saucer, Elliot anxiously licks her lips, “Um _—_ does it bother you? The whole ‘being a lecturer at the uni you're studying at.’ And the, you know, ‘me being quite a bit older than you?’”

Swallowing the food in her mouth, Yaz shakes her head, “Doesn’t bother me at all,” she assures, “Does it bother you?”

“No.” 

“Good.” Yaz smiles before popping a full strawberry between full lips and watching Elliot’s throat bob and eyes darken at the display.

“What do you want this to be, Yaz?” Elliot asks suddenly, fiddling with a napkin.

“What do you mean?” Yaz returns one she finishes the fruit.

“Is this just sex?” 

“I don’t know, do you want it to be?” 

“Honestly? No. What about you?” Elliot retorts in anticipation as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth nervously.

“I want more,” Yaz says softly with a hopeful smile on her lips.

“Really?” 

“Really.”

Elliot’s grin outshines the morning sun as she relaxes against the back of her chair, “Oh, brilliant, that’s brilliant, Yaz. I’ve gotta admit I was a bit scared sex was all you wanted from this. And as good as it was, it’s not just your body I’m attracted to.” 

“Same here,” Yaz admits, taking a sip of her tea. 

“I’m glad, though, really I am. I’d ask you to stop tonight as well but _—_ well you heard Donna earlier so…”

“Oh it’s fine,” Yaz waves off, “I’ve got work tonight anyway. I’m on nearly everyday until after the new year.”

“Everyday?” 

“ _ Nearly  _ everyday, I have a few days off, but I’ll probably dog sit those days if I’m needed so it’s not really time off.” 

“You’re working two jobs?”

“I’ve gotta,” Yaz shrugs solemnly, “I need to pay rent.”

“Aren’t you seeing your family at all over Christmas, then?”

“Nah. I mean we don’t really celebrate it anyway so it's not a big deal. I’ve worked Christmas day the last two years so I’m not that bothered.”

“But surely it’s nice to go home and see them anyway?” 

“I mean of course it is,” Yaz sighs, “I just never seem to have the chance.” 

“Yaz?” Elliot frowns as she watches Yaz scowl at the dregs of her tea, “When did you last go home and see them?” 

Yaz’s gaze falls back to the skyline and she lets out a long breath, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she tries to shrug her answer off, “May, I think. Just before third semester finished and work was gonna pick up.”

“May?! Yaz that was seven months ago! You’ve not seen them in seven months?” 

“Well, I do FaceTime _—_ ”

“That’s not the same. It’s not right for your job to consume so much of your time.” 

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You should quit your job.”

“What?!”

“I’ll pay your rent,” Elliot says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Yaz stammers, “ _ Because  _ this is all so new. What if we don’t work? And I’ve left my job and you stop paying and then I’m fucked! I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Yaz, I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t, but I do. I can’t allow you to do that. I'm not comfortable with that. It feels wrong. And I  _ know,  _ I  _ know  _ you’re super rich but I don’t want to become financially dependent on you,” Yaz asserts gently.

“You could always cut back your hours? Give yourself more free time and I can cover the rest. Then you can pick your hours back up if anything happens _—_ between us,” Elliot proposes.

Yaz sits quietly for a moment as she considers the offer. Of how it would free up her weeks to allow Elliot to cover part of her rent. Give her more time to work on her dissertation, to indulge on evenings out with friends or film nights on the sofa with Bill. How she could make time to visit home.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” Elliot beams.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I mean the rota for the holidays is set now so I still have to work up to the new year. But after that, yeah. Plus that gives us time to see how this,” Yaz gestures between them, “goes.”

“Yes, absolutely, Yaz.” Elliot nods vigorously, “Not a problem. It can all be on your terms and what you’re comfortable with me contributing.”

“Thanks, Elliot.” Yaz says bashfully.

“Always.” There’s a beat where Elliot sips the last of her tea. “Right,” she says, standing, “Shall we get ready for the day?”

Yaz stands in agreement, “You don’t have a personal stylist as well, do you?”

“No,” Elliot laughs, “Though I do have a personal shopper.”

“Seriously? Actually, you know what? I’m not surprised.”

* * *

Always the gentlewoman, Elliot rides the lift back down with Yaz and walks to her to the exit, even waiting with her while her taxi arrives. When it does, she’s also the one to give the man the address, open the door for Yaz, and shove a couple of notes into her hand to cover the cost. 

“Text me when you’re back?” 

“You know it’s the middle of the day, right?”

“I know,” Elliot shrugs, “I just wanna make sure you’re safe.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Okay,” Elliot smiles warmly as she boldly leans down to place a soft kiss on yaz’s lips. “See you.”

“Bye,” Yaz flushes as Elliot shuts the door between them, waving as Yaz pulls away. 

When she gets home, the jammy lock of her flat and creaky hinges of the front door is a jarring contrast to the life of luxury Elliot had shown her the night before. With a despondent sigh, Yaz makes her way through the flat and fills up the kettle before flicking it on.

“Bill?” she calls out, barely hearing the grumble that emanates from the room at the end of the hall. Massively hungover then. Feeling cruel, Yaz makes her way down the hall and flings her best friend's door open, “Afternoon sleepyhead!” she shouts with a laugh when she dodges the pillow that gets lobbed at her.

“Piss off, Yaz.” Bill groans from under sheets, the light of the hallway blinding to her sensitive head. 

“Good night?” she asks as she drops down on the bed next to her.

“Messy night,” Bill rasps, braving the world outside of her sheets with a peak past her covers. 

“Wow, you look awful,”

“Thanks, Yaz. Christ, can’t remember the last time I went that hard.” Reluctantly sitting up, Bill spies the pint of water her drunk self had left her, picking it up and necking half of it in one go.

“That bad?” yaz grimaces.

“Like the Sahara in my fucking mouth.” 

After placing the glass back down and letting her eyes focus, Bill’s gaze finally falls to her friend and her lips turn up in a smirk, “So, last night's clothes, Yaz? Who were they?”

Cheeks heating up, Yaz’s gaze drops to mint coloured sheets, “Not telling,” 

“Aw, come on,” Bill pesters.

“No!” Yaz nudges back with a smile, “Not yet, anyway.”

“Wow, that serious, huh?” 

Yaz’s blushing features and lack of reply is all the answer Bill needs.

“Well whoever they were, they made good work of your neck, Yaz, flippin’ heck! Good luck trying to cover that for work tonight.”

“I know, “Yaz grimaces, “Wasn’t really thinking about it at the time.”

“I bet you weren’t,” Bill grins with a wiggle of her brows.

“Shut up! Anyway, I’m making a cuppa, do you want one?”

“Yes, please. You’re a God send, Yaz.”

“I know,” Yaz shrugs, slinking off the bed and back to the kitchen while she pulls out her phone and opens a new text thread with Elliot.

_ Yaz [12:47pm]: Just got home and bill is half dead just as i predicted x _

_ Elliot [12:49pm]: Fab!! Thanks for letting me know yaz. And wow you truly are the mum friend x _

_ Yaz [12:50pm]: Told you. This is what happens when I’m not around x _

_ Elliot [12:51pm]: Either way, I’m glad I stole you away for the night x _

_ Yaz [12:51pm]: Me too x _

_ Elliot [12:52pm]: When can I next see you? x _

_ Yaz [12:52pm]: I’ll check my rota but I’m pretty sure my next free day is Wednesday x _

_ Elliot [12:53pm]: That’s so long :((( x _

_ Yaz [12:54pm]: I know. But it’ll be worth it x _

_ Elliot [12:54pm]: I’ll make sure it is x _

The implication leaves a dull ache in Yaz’s gut at the very thought of what she and Elliot will get up to next time they see each other, though before she has a chance to send off another text, Bill is calling for her.

“Yaz did you go all the way to the shop and back for that tea?!”

“I’ll throw it down the sink in a minute,” she calls back playfully, filling the two mugs up.

_ Yaz [12:56pm]: Think I’m gonna be doting on Bill all afternoon, I’ll message you when I’m home work safe? x _

_ Elliot [12:56pm]: Yes please, have a good shift xx _

Yaz can’t help the unconscious smile that pulls at her lips at the caring message and extra kiss. There’s no need for a cup of tea to warm her stomach when the text does it for her.

“Yaz!” Bill whines like a child down the hall, and Yaz rolls her eyes as she pours tea and sugar into each mug before heading back to her friend’s room and setting herself down next to Bill on the bed. 

“Thanks,” Bill says, taking the tea from Yaz gratefully and humming pleasantly against the rim. There’s only a moment of silence between them before Bill’s curiosity hits breaking point, “You’re never usually in this good of a mood after a night out. Was the sex really that good?”

“Bill!” 


	3. you look perfect when you're posing for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these horny bitches are back!!
> 
> hope y'all enjoy while i go wash away my sins after this one x

Working two jobs means seeing Elliot is currently a luxury that Yaz isn’t finding herself able to indulge in. 

The Christmas period means the restaurant she works at is constantly rammed and leaves her dead on her feet by the end of her shift and collapsing into bed as soon as she’s through the door. Bill isn’t even there to vent her frustrations to, having gone home the weekend following the end of the semester for the holidays. It leaves Yaz feeling lonely even though she has Elliot on the other end of the phone. Texts and phone calls don’t feel like enough when the person you want to see lives in the same city as you and is only a taxi drive away. A taxi she wouldn’t even pay for, mind. 

So, Yaz’s first day off in two weeks doesn’t come fast enough when she wakes up on new years day and can relax. Her alarm shocks her awake at 9am and for a brief moment, she panics she’s late for work until she releases the day and drops back down on her bed with a relieved sigh. Rolling onto her side, Yaz picks up her phone and shoots off a good morning text to Elliot. The reply is almost instant.

_Elliot [09:03am]: Morning yaz!! It’s your day off!! Still want to come round later? xx_

_Yaz [09:03am]: Yes it is thank GOD. And of course I do, just lmk what time xx_

_Elliot [09:04am]: lmk?????_

Yaz chuckles to herself at Elliot’s confusion. Sometimes she forgets their age gap.

_Yaz [09:04am]: It means let me know xx_

_Elliot [09:05am]: Oh right! Then yes I shall let you know!! xx_

Setting her phone aside, Yaz drags herself out of bed and hops in the shower. After taking her time under the spray, Yaz dresses down in a hoodie and leggings, heading to their cramped kitchen to flick the kettle on and tuck damp, natural curls behind her ear. 

Tea made and breakfast eaten, Yaz sets down on their small sofa, sticks her headphones in, and spends her free time on dissertation work. Around lunchtime, she uses their brand new microwave to heat up her food. 

By the evening, she’s in a taxi on her way to Elliot’s. The same rush she always gets buzzes through her body in excitement at seeing the other woman, even more after so long of not seeing her — feeling her. 

When the taxi pulls up outside Elliot’s complex, Yaz’s grin brightens when she sees the woman coming out the doors to meet her. With an enthusiastic wave, she heads over, passing cash through the window the driver before opening the door for Yaz. 

“Happy new year, Yaz!” she greets with a hug. It’s warm and inviting in the cool air of winter, and Yaz catches the smell of expensive perfume and earl grey tea under her nose, the familiar smell comforting and she melts against Elliot’s form. 

“Happy new year,” she muffles, into Elliot’s neck, pulling back to accept the kiss that the other woman grants. 

Pulling back with a smile, Elliot takes Yaz’s bag, then her hand, and guides them inside. They step into the lift, tread down the hallway, and step into the grandiose of Elliot’s penthouse. It’s yet to stop knocking the breath out of Yaz. 

“Cuppa?” Elliot offers as they make their way toward the kitchen, dropping Yaz’s bag by the stairs to the bedroom.

Yaz takes a moment to reply, gaze still roaming the room, “Yeah, please.”

“You alright, Yaz?” Elliot asks, noticing her dazed answer.

“Yeah, I’m fine just,” Yaz huffs a laugh, “still not over this,” she grins, gesturing to the room.

“One day, you will be,” Elliot quips casually.

Yaz’s heart picks up in excitement at the easy way Elliot suggests a future.

Pulling out a stool, Yaz hops up and leans her arms against the island while she waits for her tea. “So how've you spent your day, Yaz?” Elliot asks, while she pours boiling water into their respective mugs.

“Dissertation work.” 

“Oh, anything interesting?”

“Not really, just a few calculations,” she shrugs.

“Ah, right. You know if you ever need any help, I can always give you a hand?”

“Is that allowed?”

“Course! Only the calculations I mean, and only if you get stuck. Though if you want me to read through anything at some point I can always lightly suggest things to you,” Elliot winks.

“Might just take you up on that,” Yaz returns with a smirk.

When their drinks are done, Elliot hands Yaz’s to her and they make their way over to the sofa, dropping down next to each other. Their sides press together, the presence safe and warm as Yaz nestles herself lower into the cushions.

“How was work last night?” Elliot asks next.

“Rammed. Got some good tips though. New years makes people generous. So glad for this day off though,” Yaz pauses, looking to Elliot with a gentle smile, “I missed you.”

Elliot’s expression softens, “I missed you too.”

Lifting a hand, Elliot’s fingertips trace Yaz’s jaw, and she leans into the touch as she tucks her hair behind her ear. 

“Ryan’s cooking lasagna tonight. Is that ok?” 

“Sounds great.”

“Brilliant. He should be here in a bit, actually.”

It’s about fifteen minutes later that he arrives, the bell ringing with his presence as Elliot gets up to answer it. 

“Alright, Elliot?” He greets, before turning to Yaz on the sofa, “Evening, Yaz.” 

“Hi,” she returns politely, still feeling a little awkward around the young man.

While Ryan begins preparing tea he chats away idly with Elliot who, in the meantime, has chosen a bottle of red wine from the rack and pulled the cork free. Pouring a generous amount into a decanter, Elliot brings it and two glasses back to the seating area and places them on the glass coffee table with clink. 

“I read somewhere you’re meant to let it breathe and that the decanter helps. Sounds a bit pretentious don’t you think?” Elliot’s face scrunches in innocent confusion.

“A bit yeah. Yet, you’re still doing it,” Yaz quips with a raise of her brows, struggling to stay serious when Elliot’s lips pout.

“You saying I’m pretentious?”

“No,” Yaz drawls sarcastically, revelling in teasing the other woman.

“Yaz,” Elliot whines, dropping back into the sofa and that’s when Yaz cracks.

“You know I’m only joking,” Yaz laughs, leaning over Elliot to plant a kiss on her cheek before frowning back at the decanter, “Don’t really get ‘letting wine breathe’ though.”

“Me neither,” There’s a pause, “Let’s just drink it,” Elliot says, sitting up.

“Good plan.” 

* * *

When dinner is ready, Ryan plates it up for them, filling their dishes with delicious pasta and a small side of fresh salad along with some seasoned potato wedges. As they sit down, Elliot offers Ryan to stop for a drink. 

“I’d love to, but I promised the boyfriend I wouldn’t be late for movie night.” 

“Ah, understandable. How is Tibo?”

“Doing better now yeah, thanks, Elliot.” Ryan responds with a grateful smile for Elliot’s concern.

“Good, I’m glad. Give him my best.” 

“Will do. Right, desert is in the fridge and there’s some lasagna spare if you want it. See you, ladies!” he says with a wave, heading toward the door. 

They both wish him goodbye, waiting until the door shuts behind him before tucking in. 

When Yaz puts the first forkful in her mouth, she freezes.

“What?” Elliot panics, mouth half full of food. 

Yaz swallows before speaking, “This is literally the best veggie lasagna I’ve ever had.”

Elliot sighs with relief before sitting up straight with a smug smile, “I told you before Ryan is the best.”

“You did. And you’re right.” After a couple more mouthfuls and a sip of wine, Yaz continues the conversation. “Did you do much last night for new years?”

Through a bite of food, Elliot nods, “Yeah, I saw Donna! We went out and had a few drinks but were home before midnight. She stopped on the sofa because she couldn’t be arsed to get a taxi home.” 

“I feel like Donna’s gonna want to meet me at some point, isn’t she?”

“Definitely,” Elliot replies resolutely, “Best friend approval and all that. Make sure you’re not only after me for my money.”

It’s a joke, but Yaz is almost certain it carries weight. 

“Elliot, have people actually done that before?”

“Course they have. It’d be a miracle if people hadn’t.”

At Elliot’s crestfallen expression, Yaz places her cutlery down and reaches for one of Elliot’s hands, fingers naturally linking. “Elliot?”

With a despondent sigh Elliot takes a sip of her drink, “My ex-wife, Missy. She were only with me for the money. I loved her so much, Yaz, and she were stealing from me behind my back. She had an offshore account that she were transferring my money into. It was only smaller amounts at first, enough that I wouldn’t notice. But one time she got a bit too cocky and transferred a significantly larger sum and that’s how I caught her.” 

Elliot offers Yaz a meek smile in appreciation for the thumb running over her knuckles before continuing.

“I were in denial at first, but Donna made me see the light. I were proper heartbroken.” 

“So, is she in prison now?” Yaz asks carefully.

Elliot shakes her head. “I didn’t want all the fuss of a police investigation. After I found out I just wanted her gone. Get rid of the problem, you know? So I just — I just gave her a big settlement in the divorce. Haven’t seen her since the last day of court.”

“I’m so sorry, Elliot.”

“ _Ah_ , it’s ok,” Elliot shrugs in an attempt to downplay her past hurt, “Should’ve been more careful, really. Donna always tells me I wear my heart on my sleeve.”

“I mean, I don’t exactly think you’ve been that careful with me.” Yaz admits with a slight smile.

“Probably not, no, but there’s something about you, Yaz. I don’t feel like I have to be careful. You’re a good person. I can just tell. I wouldn’t have told you all this, otherwise.” 

“Elliot…”

“I mean it, Yaz. I really do trust you. You’re one of the most genuine people I know.” 

In time, they finish their cooled food over more pleasant conversation, Elliot recounting a story of her, Donna and a spa weekend where they were continuously mistaken for being married.

It’s later into the evening that the two of them find themselves cuddled up on the sofa with an oversized bowl of popcorn watching _Mamma Mia_ while Elliot tries her hardest not to sing along. Yet, when mother helps daughter ready herself for her wedding, Yaz can’t help the longing for home that tugs at her heart. Listening intently to the lyrics and watching the visuals accompany such a hopefully somber song, Yaz’s eyes glaze over with a craving from something as simple as a hug from her own mum. She misses home, the vast city of London making her feel small and lonely, especially when she’s spent the last two weeks near enough alone while her best friend got to go home. Even with Elliot by her side, it’s not enough to quell the quiet sniffle as a tear escapes her eye.

Almost instantly, Elliot’s gaze snaps to her, catching the falling tear before it drips off her chin, “Yaz, what’s wrong?” 

Shaking her head, Yaz tries to blink the tears away with another sniff. Crying at a film like _Mamma Mia_ feels a little embarrassing, it’s no wonder she can feel her features flush. “It’s nothing. I’m fine,” she insists in an attempt to brush off Elliot’s worry.

It doesn’t work.

“Yaz…”

With a sigh, Yaz looks up from fidgeting fingers to find Elliot’s gentle eyes and the way they crinkle slightly at the corners. Yaz is convinced one simple look from her could melt the coldest of hearts. It’s why she feels safe enough to open up.

“I just — seeing the mum and the daughter together. It makes me miss home.”

“Nearly eight months now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Yaz sighs, recalling a conversation not too long ago with Elliot over breakfast.

“At least with you taking on less hours now you’ll have more time to go home?”

“Yeah, ‘spose,” Yaz sighs despondently, “Still depends on my shift patterns though.”

With a reassuring peck to her temple, Elliot pulls Yaz close, “You’ll see them soon. I know it.”

Leaning closer, Yaz feels herself calm down at the press of the woman next to her, “I hope you’re right.” 

Wiping away the remnants of her tears, they sit back and watch the rest of the film, the popcorn bowl empty by the time the credits roll. 

Rain patters gently against the windows and the city glows into the night, the cold outside a contrast to the comforting warmth of Elliot’s penthouse. From their height it feels like she can see for miles, like if Yaz squints hard enough, she might just see the interchanging colours of Park Hill flats. 

Elliot is quick to notice her wandering gaze. “Yaz? You ok?”

Dragging herself back into the room, Yaz shifts from Elliot’s hold and settles in her lap, arms draping loosely over her shoulders. “Distract me?”

With a growing smile, Elliot’s hands smooth over the dip of Yaz’s back before resting on her hips, “Happily.” 

Leaning down, Yaz finds Elliot’s lips, kissing her slowly as her fingers find the fine hairs at the back of her neck and scratch lightly. Swallowing Elliot’s hum of approval, Yaz slips her tongue past the other woman’s lips and happily invites the wandering hands that slip under her hoodie to graze along a toned stomach. 

“What do you need, Yaz?” Elliot mumbles against her lips.

“You. Just make it so I can’t think of anything but you,” Yaz replies as she grabs one of Elliot’s hands and guides it to the waistband of her leggings. 

“I think I can do that.”

Cool fingers slip past elastic as another hand roams higher and cups Yaz over the fabric of her bra as she sighs into a languid kiss. She’s hot and wet when the tips of Elliot’s fingers brush lightly over her and her hips press into the touch instantly in need of more. 

Elliot’s hand pushes past the fabric of Yaz’s bra, thumb finding her nipple and sweeping over the small bud before squeezing lightly until Yaz’s hand comes up to encourage her to grab more fully. A distraction is what she needs, and it’s what she fully intends to get. And by Elliot’s enthusiasm, she seems more than eager to give her one.

Her deft fingers move slowly over Yaz’s clit, teasing her into it as she pinches a nipple between her fingers and tugs while her lips skim over Yaz’s jaw. Elliot works Yaz up, soon moving to her other breast and grabbing her roughly, incentivised by Yaz’s moans and picking up the pace between her legs before dipping lower to press a finger easily inside.

“More,” Yaz breathes, feeling Elliot smirk against her neck when she pulls out and pushes back in with a second finger. Yaz groans at the easy stretch, breaths falling heavier at the feeling of Elliot pressing deep, of grazing along her inner walls with each crook of her fingers as her thumb finds Yaz’s clit. “Fuck — harder,” Yaz insists as she grinds against Elliot’s hand.

Crashing their lips together, Yaz pushes her tongue into Elliot’s mouth, moaning against her lips as Elliot’s fingers set a punishing pace and her hand slips from under Yaz’s hoodie to cup the back of her neck and hold her close. Slick sounds and heavy breathing fill the room around them, the noises only increasing in volume when Elliot murmurs, “More?”

And Yaz replies, “Yes,” Groaning when a third finger joins the two already fucking into her. 

The air between them is hot and intense when Yaz pulls back and falls prey to the black of Elliot’s eyes staring right back when Yaz’s damp forehead drops to Elliot’s own while they breathe against each other’s lips. 

“Are you close?” Elliot pants, and all Yaz can do is nod rapidly in response as her thighs start to tremble around Elliot’s, her voice reduced merely to throaty moans at the whim of Elliot’s hands.

All it takes is Elliot’s lips on hers and her tongue in her mouth for Yaz to unravel. For a moment she goes tense, moans breathing over Elliot’s kiss-swollen lips until she slumps and Elliot’s fingers slow to a stop before pulling out. 

They just hold each other for a short time, catching their breaths until Elliot chuckles lightly. Yaz sits up with a smile on her lips at the sound. “What?”

“I dunno,” Elliot sighs, “Just that was pretty intense, is all.”

“Yeah, it was. Not a bad thing though, was it?” 

“No! Not at all. It were great.”

“Good,” Yaz grins, “Because now it’s my turn.” 

Yaz doesn’t give Elliot a chance to respond before she drops off her lap and onto her knees as she unfastens the button of Elliot’s jeans. 

For a brief second, Yaz pauses and waits.

“Yes, Yaz. Please.” Elliot nods.

It’s all she needs to continue. 

When she pulls Elliot’s jeans from her legs, Yaz spots the damp patch of her underwear. “Giving really does it for you, huh?” she smirks, a perfect brow raised in unison.

“What can I say?” Elliot shrugs, “I like to please.”

“That much is obvious,” Yaz laughs softly as her fingers find the elastic of Elliot’s boxers and drag them down her legs.

Once discarded, Yaz takes in the view as she spreads Elliot’s legs and settles herself comfortably while a hand cards itself through her hair and pulls it back to hold it out the way. Elliot is glistening and ready for her, and Yaz runs her hands up supple thighs before resting them loosely around Elliot’s hips and diving in.

Starting from her entrance, Yaz drags her tongue straight through Elliot, devouring her taste in one smooth action that has the hand in her hair tightening its grip and a moan heaving into the room above her. Yaz hums against Elliot at the sounds she makes, lapping languidly between soaked folds, teasing her gently and waiting for Elliot to push up into her before focusing on her most sensitive area. 

When Elliot does exactly that, grinding up into Yaz’s mouth while her name falls from her lips, Yaz focuses her attention on Elliot’s clit. She swirls her tongue around the sensitive bud, pulling the addictive sounds of Elliot’s pleasure from her lungs with each swipe of her tongue before finally taking her clit between her now wet lips. 

Elliot groans when Yaz sucks, head falling back against the cushions and eyes squeezing shut for a moment before glancing down to Yaz kneeled between her legs. 

“God, Yaz. You look incredible,” she pants, whining when Yaz pulls back briefly to trail a few more kisses along Elliot’s thighs to cruelly tease her before leaning back in to lap up her arousal where it nearly drips onto the sofa cushions.

Yaz moves back to Elliot’s clit then, alternating between licking and sucking with fervour until Yaz’s name is the only thing on Elliot’s lips and she comes hard against her mouth, thighs clamping around her head and her knuckles white with their grip in Yaz’s hair when her hips keen. 

Elliot falls back into the sofa with a satisfied sigh and Yaz licks her lips as she stands on slightly aching knees before dropping down next to Elliot with a pleased smirk.

“Yasmin Khan,” Elliot breathes, “You’re something else.”

* * *

When Yaz wakes the next morning, it’s to the gentle light of the sun through half raised blinds and an empty bed. 

Sitting up with half asleep confusion, Yaz stretches until her back clicks and covers her mouth when she yawns. She always sleeps best in Elliot’s bed, Yaz has quickly come to realise. Whether that’s the insanely expensive mattress or the comfort of the body next to her, Yaz isn’t quite sure yet. Though she has a feeling it’s the latter.

“Elliot?” Yaz calls out, voice still a little raspy from just waking up.

“Morning, Yaz!” she hears from below her along with an uneasy clunk of crockery. 

“Elliot, what’re you doing?” 

“Nothing!” Elliot replies, “Just stay there I’ll be up in a minute!”

Deciding to do as she’s told, Yaz pulls the sheets back over her and sticks a pillow between her back and the headboard to sit up comfortably. It is in fact around a minute later when slightly sleep mussed locks appear, followed by Elliot’s beaming expression and the tray in her hands.

She pauses at the top of the stairs, “Ta-da! I made you breakfast!” 

Closing the gap between them, Elliot rounds to Yaz’s side of the bed and places the tray on her lap before perching on the edge of the bed. “Well, I say ‘I made you breakfast’ but really I just stuck some cereal in a bowl and made a cuppa because well—”

“You can’t cook,” Yaz laughs.

“Um — yes.”

“Well, the gesture is very sweet, thank you. You didn’t have to do this and I don’t really know why you’ve done this. But, thank you,” Yaz says earnestly as she leans in to steal a kiss from Elliot’s tea flavoured lips.

“I did this because you’ve been missing your family and you deserved a bit of TLC. Also, I’m impatient so,” Elliot picks up the small envelope that’s placed against the mug tea that Yaz herself has only just noticed and hands it to her, “Open this.” 

Elliot is practically vibrating on the spot as Yaz eyes her suspiciously while using her finger to cut between the glue. Resisting the temptation to look as the butterflies in her stomach kick up a storm, Yaz dips her hand blindly into the envelope, all while keeping her eyes on Elliot’s excitedly shining expression. She feels a couple of flimsy pieces of thin card between her fingers and when the temptation becomes too much, she looks down to find train tickets between her fingers.

“Wh—”

“It’s first class tickets to Sheffield!” Elliot blurts out, clearly too eager to hold in her excitement any longer. 

Completely stunned, Yaz reads the text on the tickets over and over and feels the need to pinch herself. They say exactly what Elliot has already spoken. Though her shocked silence quickly sends Elliot into a panic.

“Oh no I shouldn’t have done this should I? Was it too much? It was too much wasn’t it? Yaz I’m so sorry I can just rip them up and pretend this never happened or—”

“Shut up!” Yaz says between a watery laugh, “God, why’d you put this on my legs ‘cause I can’t even move to hug you!”

“Oh! Oh — right, sorry, Yaz!” Elliot quickly lifts the tray from Yaz’s legs and places it precariously on the nightstand. Yaz doesn’t give her second before tackling her in a hug that almost sends them falling on the floor. 

She can’t stop that quiet sob that slips past her lips as she grasps Elliot in a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you. Thank you _so_ much. You didn’t have to do this,” she mumbles against Elliot’s neck. Her neck that is now slightly damp with a few of Yaz’s stray tears.

“Course I did,” Elliot says simply, “Can’t have a sad Yaz.”

Yaz just laughs again at the expression, gripping harder if possible and feeling Elliot squeeze a little harder in response. They stay like that for a while, just holding each other in contentment until Yaz’s eyes are dry and she finally pulls away to press a lingering kiss to Elliot’s lips. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“No, I don’t. But I can see, Yaz. And before you panic, it’s an open ticket. So don’t worry about your work shifts, ok?” 

With a nod, Yaz bites her lip to stop it trembling as her eyes start to feel damp again, “You’re so kind, Elliot.” 

“Always try to be nice, but never fail to be kind. That’s what my Grandad always used to say.”

“He sounds wise.”

“Oh he was. You know, I think the best advice he ever gave me was to never eat pears. And you know what? He was right. They _are_ too squishy.” 

Yaz fails to bite back a laugh at the remark, lips turning upwards to match Elliot’s, “Elliot?”

“Hm?”

“You're a bit weird, sometimes,” Yaz sighs lovingly. 

“Nothing wrong with a bit of weird.”

“No, there’s not.”

“Now, eat your cereal before it goes soggy.”

“Yes, boss.”

* * *

The first class carriage is nothing like Yaz expects. Armed with her own bottle of water she’s surprised to be offered free drinks and then free food. She has room to fully stretch her legs in a plush seat rather than be cramped next to someone twice her size in a noisy carriage with most likely an annoying screaming child. 

Instead the carriage is quiet, the staff are friendly, and even though she has to avoid the funny looks of people who think she probably doesn’t belong there, the journey is the best she’s ever had. 

It’s been just under a week since Elliot bought her the tickets, and Yaz had been lucky enough for her rota to come through and have the whole weekend off for the first time in God knows how long. So naturally, Yaz jumped at the opportunity to use her tickets sooner rather than later. She’d text her sister to make sure they’d all be home, and insisted she not tell their parents. She wanted to see the surprise on their faces when they opened the door to their daughter after eight months. 

Yaz neglected to say where her luck had come from.

The station is bustling when she gets off on the other side of the journey, music blasting through her earphones as she makes her way through throngs of people to the exit gates and taking a breather when she steps out into the Northern air. All it takes is a few steps for Park Hill to come into view. Out the back exit, Yaz crosses the tram line and makes her way along a quiet pathway, the building she calls home in her sights the whole time. The walk takes less than ten minutes, and soon enough she’s in the lift up to her floor, Sheffield coming into view the higher she climbs. Once she makes it to her floor, Yaz pauses to take in the sight. Sheffield doesn’t look as glamorous as London does from the height of Elliot’s penthouse, but she can’t deny how much she’s missed her home city. 

The brief reminder of the other woman has Yaz sending off a quick text to let her know she’s made it home and heads toward her flat, the cool wind pricking at her ears now she’s at a higher elevation. She’s thankful for the speed that the door is answered. 

“Hi!” she greats excitedly, taking in her mother’s shocked expression.

“Yaz?! Oh my God — Hakim!” Najia calls back into the flat, “Yaz is home!”

“What?!” Yaz hears her dad reply before she’s engulfed in a welcoming hug.

“It’s so good to see you sweetheart, we’ve missed you so much.”

Yaz can’t help but grip just as tightly back, her mother's familiar perfume easing any anxieties. “I missed you too, mum.”

After being tugged into what she could only describe as a bear hug from her dad and a surprisingly tight hug from her sister, Yaz finds herself sat between her parents on the sofa five minutes later, a cup of tea warming her hands. 

“I can’t believe you finally got a weekend off,” Hakim exclaims, his own tea almost staining the mug. The scalding look from his wife settles his gesturing arms.

“I know,” Yaz grins, “Some kind of miracle honestly. I’d say my boss was feeling nice but—”

“Unlikely,” Sonya interjects.

“Yeah, exactly.” 

“Well, I don’t care what’s done it,” Najia starts, “We’re just glad to have you home.”

“Too right! I’m gonna make my special pakora tonight in celebration!”

The resounding no that fills the room has Hakim slouching in a huff. 

“Me and mum’ll cook.” 

“Yaz, you’ve had a long journey—”

“I want to, mum.”

“Alright, love. Let me check I’ve got all the ingredients and we’ll make your nani’s biryani.”

After an afternoon spent rigorously catching up, Yaz finally gets the chance to spend a quiet moment alone in her room before preparing dinner. She checks her phone to find a response from Elliot that makes her smile and one from Bill telling her to enjoy her weekend free of work. The line of never ending questioning from her parents about her final year of uni had been tiring and an easy reminder of why she’d moved so far away in the first place. If it weren’t for the fact Yaz was helping prepare dinner soon, she’d make herself a coffee to regain some energy. 

It’s already dark out while the telly plays in the background and an apron wraps itself around Yaz’s waist while she chops garlic. The smells of toasted spices lingers in the air as Najia adds onions to the hot pan, the vegetable sizzling when it hits the heat. Yaz and her mum make a good team in the kitchen, working seamlessly around each other with a natural knack for cooking and their enjoyment of it. When Najia pops the dish in the oven to cook, it’s then that she turns to Yaz with a hip resting against the counter and curious eyes boring into her daughter. 

Ready for another invading question, Yaz folds her arms in defence. 

“You seem happier, love.” Is what she doesn’t expect.

Leaning against the opposite counter, Yaz frowns, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just — something about the way you’re carrying yourself. It’s different from before. You seem happier.” 

There’s a pause while Yaz waits for the question she knows is coming.

“Are you seeing someone?”

_There it is._

“No,” she lies. The thought of explaining Elliot to her family sends a rush of anxiety to her constricting lungs. 

Lucky for Yaz, she has past experience of lying to her parents. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, things are just—” Yaz shrugs, “—Better at the moment, I guess. Things are going well. My grades are good, works well — _work,_ and I live in a slightly better flat than last year with my best friend. And now I’m home with you guys for the weekend.”

Najia eyes her with slight suspicion before relenting, trusting her daughters honest words, “Well, I’m glad, Yasmin.” she smiles genuinely. Seeing her mother’s smile is something Yaz didn’t realise she’d missed so much.

Dinner passes through easy conversation, and once they’ve eaten and cleared away, Yaz finds herself settled on the sofa slowly drifting off to some action movie. She’s had a long day and it’s finally catching up on her. 

She doesn’t realise she’s nodded off entirely until her sister nudges her.

“Yaz, you’re falling asleep again. Go to bed, yeah? You look shattered.” 

Rousing from her light slumber, Yaz blinks into the room and focuses on Sonya.

“Yeah. Good idea.” Yaz stands and bids goodnight to her parents before setting off down the hall. 

She quickly gets ready for bed, sends Elliot a goodnight text, and is asleep within minutes. 

When she wakes the next morning, it’s naturally. The sun peers through her curtains in a strip across her bed, dust mites floating through the beam as she slowly sits up. She can hear her parents pottering about in the kitchen and slips out of bed to join them. 

“Morning, love,” Najia greets, turning the kettle on ready for Yaz to make her own tea. While Yaz sorts her drink, Najia continues talking, “I thought we could go out for some lunch today in town? Just the two of us, mum and daughter catch up.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Yaz smiles over her mug.

“Great, we’ll go out around one then, alright?”

* * *

The weekend means Sheffield city centre is busy. Shoppers bustling from one store to the next as Yaz and Najia make their way through the streets to the quieter end of town. More specifically, to a small café they found six years ago that gave them the solitude for Yaz to talk and for Najia to listen back when she was at school.

When Najia asks Yaz to go to lunch, it nearly always means the same café, and it always means a check-in. To see how the both are, really. The branch by now had extended both ways and Najia and Yaz could feel safe enough to confide in each other.

So when they sit down, food and drink ordered, Yaz is happy to be honest in saying she’s good. 

“You promise me you are?” Najia worries, “I know third year can be stressful with writing your dissertation.”

“Trust me, mum, I’ve got loads of support when it comes to it,” Yaz says, Elliot on her mind, “I’ve got a good feeling about it, to be honest.” 

“Ok, love,” Najia says as she visibly relaxes.

“What about you, mum? You ok?”

“Well the new job at the hotel is going well, you’re doing well and Sonya is doing — better.” Yaz playfully rolls her eyes. Yesterday her sister told how she got sacked yet again for being rude to a customer. “But your dad is being made redundant at the end of the month.”

Yaz’s heart drops.

“What?”

“The company needed to lay some staff off or face going into administration. Your dad wasn’t one of the lucky ones.”

Running a hand over her face, Yaz sighs, “When ever are we?”

“Yaz—”

“I swear it’s always us, mum. First that bloody arsehole fires you from that one hotel with no good reason and threatens to sue you if you fought it. And now this!”

“I know, Yaz. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, mum. It’s the universe that sucks.”

There’s a pause before Najia speaks again. “The redundancy your dad is getting isn’t bad, but it means money will be tight for a while.”

“I can pick up more shifts.” Yaz says resolutely, “I’ll try do more dog sitting too and send the money back so—”

“Yasmin, no.” Najia says firmly, eyes hard set.

“But—”

“No, Yaz. I’m not having you do that again. It exhausted you to the point of a breakdown last year. You are _not_ doing that again and that’s final. We’ll be fine. We can get by. Your dad is a good worker, I’m sure it won’t take long for him to find another job.”

A beat. “Are you sure?”

“Positive, love. It’s just been so good to see you after hearing the news of your dad’s job. It’s really just what we both needed. You came at the right time.”

“I’m really glad I came home, mum.”

“Me too,” Najia smiles back. “And I know you said you were feeling better and I’m sorry if this has brought you down but I thought you should know. I didn’t want you finding out if we ended up in a worse situation.”

“No, I’m glad you told me, mum. Thank you.” 

Conversation moves on then, back to simpler things as they eat their food and laugh together. Yaz always enjoys time alone with her mum like this, where they just chat about anything and everything and just for a little while, forget the problems that loom over them any other time of day. 

When they step back through the door of their family flat a couple of hours later, they’re back not ten minutes before the door goes. Already on his feet, Hakim answers it and comes back with a parcel. 

“Yaz, it’s for you.”

“It is?”

“Well, it’s got your name on it.”

“Oh um — must’ve ordered it to the wrong address,” she blags, standing to take the package from her dad and head down the hall.

“What did you order, love?” Najia asks curiously.

“A t-shirt,” Yaz lies, uttering the first thing that comes to mind.

“Oh, show us it on then!”

“Will do!”

Shutting her bedroom door behind her. Yaz tears away the plastic film covering the package to reveal a crisp white box underneath, the brand written in pale pink cursive on the lid. 

She already knows exactly who it’s from. Her suspicions are confirmed when she opens the box, peels back the pink tissue paper, and finds a set of wine red lingerie staring back at her with a note attached. 

_Send me a picture of you wearing it_

_E x_

The note sends a thrill of excitement up Yaz’s spine. If anything, she’s a little shocked at the gesture, at how Elliot has picked out this lingerie set for _her,_ because she wants to see Yaz in it.

For Elliot’s eyes only. Yaz likes that thought.

She quickly pulls her phone from her back pocket and opens her text thread with the other woman.

_Yaz [3:23pm]: I’ll send you your picture later when everyones gone to bed x_

_Elliot [3:24pm]: Looking forward to it xx_

Realising now she has to come up with a fake new t-shirt, Yaz shoots off her bed and rummages through her drawers until she pulls out an old pyjama shirt that she hasn’t worn in forever. It’s dark blue and loose around the neck with a slightly faded rainbow emblazoned across the chest. She has no idea where it came from, but shrugs it on anyway and gives herself a once over in the mirror before heading back out into the living area.

“Oh that’s nice, Yasmin,” Najia smiles in approval, “Very—”

“Gay,” Sonya interrupts, nodding to the rainbow stripe across Yaz’s chest.

“Sonya,” Najia sighs as she rolls her eyes at her daughter and Yaz sends a scowl in her sister’s direction.

Anticipation thrums through Yaz for the rest of the day, only slightly distracted by her family's antics and less than impressive dinner her dad cooks. Sonya teases her and she playfully bites back, her dad complains about Alexa not working properly until he gives up and just makes her play fart noises instead much to the disapproval of Najia. 

After sharing a final pot of tea around 10pm, the Khan family slowly take themselves off to bed through the following hour. Najia and Hakim are off first, both parents leaving a kiss in Yaz’s hair on their way past. 

Eventually, Sonya heads off next, but only after incessantly pestering Yaz for the details of her nights out at uni, which she refuses to discuss. Only after giving up, Sonya heads off to bed and Yaz soon follows.

Shutting her door and turning her bedside lamp on, Yaz pulls the box from under her bed and strips down to nothing. First she pulls out the bra, and as she fastens it behind her back, Yaz notices how the wine red compliments her skin tone. The lace of the cup is slightly see-through, showing the outlines of dusky nipples and with a smirk to herself in the mirror, Yaz can gauge that it’s no accident. Next she slips into the underwear, the lace stitched closer together, less teasing than the bra. The fabric covers only half her backside and fits snugly to her hips. Finally, she pulls up the thin stockings, tugging them high up her thighs as they fit sleek against her toned muscles.

Standing in the mirror, Yaz checks herself out, smiling in approval and taking note of how Elliot didn’t choose anything that covered her abs. To bring everything together, Yaz parts her hair into three strands and braids it neatly, tugging at the complete plait to loosen it a little before straightening out her sheets and dropping onto the bed. 

Yaz picks up her phone, opens the camera app and shifts in her spot to find the perfect pose. 

Lifting a knee and spreading her legs just a touch, Yaz rests her free hand across the band of her brand new underwear and leaves her slightly parted lips in frame before taking a picture. Satisfied, she presses the play on the game between her and Elliot by sending the picture off with caption:

_Yaz [11:16]: What do you think? x_

Yaz instantly locks her phone after pressing send, leaving it face down against her stomach as her body buzzes with the thrill of what she’s doing. 

She barely has to wait a minute for a reply.

_Elliot [11:16pm]: lksejk jy_

_Elliot [11:16pm]: Sorry Yaz I dropped my phone on my face_

_Elliot [11:16pm]: Yaz you’re the most gorgeous being in the universe I’m convinced of it_

_Elliot [11:17pm]: Jesus fucking christ_

_Elliot [11:17pm]: And it’s not often i swear yaz_

Yaz can’t help but laugh at Elliot’s response, feeling smug at the effect she’s instantly had on the other woman.

_Yaz [11:17pm]: I’m gonna assume you like it x_

_Elliot [11:17pm]: That’s officially the understatement of the year xx_

_Elliot [11:17pm]: WOW_

Feeling bold, Yaz bends her other leg and dips her fingers past red lace, teasing lightly at herself before taking another picture, making sure to get her tense stomach in the shot.

_Yaz [11:19pm]: How about now? x_

This time Yaz lays there, message thread open in front of her, waiting for Elliot’s response. A quiet chuckle escapes her at the repeated coming and going of the three dots. She’s proud to have managed to stun Elliot into struggling to formulate a response.

And when Elliot’s reply comes, it’s worth the wait.

_Elliot [11:21pm]: Yasmin Khan I have literally never felt so gay in my entire life as looking at this picture right now._

_Elliot [11:21pm]: Are you touching yourself?_

Dipping a little further past the hem of the fabric, Yaz sighs as she types out her short reply.

_Yaz [11:21pm]: Yes_

_Elliot [11:22pm]: Are you imagining it's my hand?_

_Yaz [11:22pm]: Who else would I be thinking of?_

_Elliot [11:22pm]: God yaz you’re something else_

_Elliot [11:23pm]: Tell me what you’re doing right now_

Yaz flushes a little at the words she’s typing out, though the heat fizzing deep in her gut has her eager to continue. She may have not done anything like this before, but Elliot’s reactions make her already hope this isn’t a one time thing.

_Yaz [11:24pm]: I’m touching my clit, running my fingers over myself and wishing it was you. I wish you were here elliot, i wish it was you touching me_

_Yaz [11:24pm]: what are you doing elliot?_

As Yaz’s fingers continue to run slow circles over her sensitive bud, she hopes Elliot’s response will be something similar to her own. It’s not long before she’s treated to a reply.

_Elliot [11:25pm]: I’m doing the same now_

_Elliot [11:25pm] God i miss you already yaz it’s not the same when it isn’t you, you’re so good_

The praise sends a spike of arousal to Yaz’s core, tempting her fingers lower as they slide through now soaked folds to tease at her own entrance, though she holds back.

_Yaz [11:26pm]: Tell me what to do elliot_

Yaz pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in anticipation.

_Elliot [11:26pm]: One finger inside yaz. Slowly_

Doing as she’s told, Yaz sighs in relief as she slowly pushes a finger inside herself with ease to the knuckle before pulling all the way out again and repeating the motion.

_Elliot [11:26pm]: Tell me how it feels to imagine it’s my finger inside you yaz_

The reply has Yaz’s bottom lip back between her teeth as she suppresses a groan and arches into her touch in search of a different angle. For a moment, she closes her eyes and envisions Elliot on top of her, the weight of her body, her lips brushing against Yaz’s own as she works magic between her legs. Goosebumps prickle Yaz’s flesh and the knot in her gut coils tighter at the thought of her hand being Elliot’s.

_Yaz [11:28pm]: It feels so good. It makes me want you here so bad. I wish you were on top of me doing this to be because you always make me feel amazing. I can’t wait to see you again_

_Elliot [11:29pm]: Another finger yaz_

Pulling out almost all the way, Yaz presses back inside herself with a second finger, writhing in the sheets as her mind starts to cloud with pleasure and she quietly pants into the air.

_Elliot [11:29pm]: I can’t wait to taste you again_

_Yaz [11:30pm]: Fucking hell elliot_

_Elliot [11:30pm]: Tell me when you’re close Yaz_

_Yaz [11:30pm]: I already am_

Yaz can feel herself starting to clench around her fingers as she increases her pace and curls her fingers up. The fabric of her underwear is constricting, but she manages to make it work as she brings herself off.

_Elliot [11:31pm]: God yaz let me call you_

_Elliot [11:31pm]: I want to hear you come_

Yaz takes mere seconds to respond.

_Yaz [11:31pm]: Call me_

There’s barely a gap between the moment she sends the text and Elliot’s name popping up on screen as Yaz presses accept.

_“Yaz,”_ Elliot sighs, and it’s clear she’s on the cusp too.

“Elliot, _God_ , please I’m so close.” 

_“You sound worked up,”_ Elliot laughs breathily.

“And whose fault is that,” Yaz huffs, fingers still working quickly between her legs. “I want you to tell me when I can come, Elliot.” she admits, handing over control she’s all too willing to give.

_“Are you still fucking yourself?”_

“Yes,” Yaz pants.

_“Good girl.”_

_“_ Oh God,” Yaz whines, unaware until now just how much praise affects her in the bedroom. She’s pretty sure Elliot’s sussed it already. “Elliot I’m so close.”

_“Not yet, Yaz.”_

“Are you close too?”

_“Yes,”_

“Elliot, please,” Yaz breathes as she rolls her hips into her hand.

_“Just a bit longer, can you do that for me, Yaz?”_

“Yeah,” Yaz strains, concentrating everything on not coming before Elliot tells her to. Though the woman’s voice alone makes it a difficult feat. 

_“Yaz when I next see you I’m gonna—”_

“Don’t,” she interrupts, “Don’t tell me. It’s already hard enough to hold on as it is. Surprise me.” 

_“Yasmin Khan,”_ Elliot pants, _“I knew I liked you for a reason.”_ There’s a long pause before Elliot speaks again, _“You can let go now.”_

Yaz does almost instantly. It’s only a couple more thrusts before she’s coming hard against her hand, back arching and mouth falling open in a silent moan. She may be lost in pleasure but she hasn’t forgotten the necessity to stay quiet. Down the phone, she hears Elliot’s own throaty moan and knows she’s coming too, just as hard by the sounds of it.

For a moment, after Yaz has slumped back into her sheets, they both just breathe down the line to each other as they catch their breaths. 

“Wow,” Yaz finally manages to utter.

_“Yeah,”_ Elliot airily laughs. 

“Elliot?”

_“Yes, Yaz?”_

“Will you pick me up from the station on Monday?” Yaz leaves a pause, “You can stop at mine for the night.”

Yaz can practically hear Elliot grinning through the phone, _“It’d be my pleasure, Yaz.”_

* * *

When Yaz leaves her family, it’s through teary goodbyes and the promise that she’ll be back soon. 

And when she arrives back in London, it’s easy to spot Elliot’s car. Opening up the passenger side, Yaz drops into the seat and leans in to greet Elliot with a kiss before they head away from the station. The car rumbles around them, its low suspension making them jolt over the car park’s speed bumps before pulling out onto the main road as they head into the city. 

“Where we going?” Yaz asks, as the city passes by in a blur.

“Dinner,” Elliot smiles at her briefly before focusing her eyes back on the road.

“Where?” Yaz says with intrigue.

“Somewhere nice.”

“Am I underdressed?” 

“Nah, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

When they arrive, Yaz finds Elliot is right. They’re both dressed smart-casual, and so is everyone else Yaz notices as they’re guided to their table. The decor is simple and cosy, oversized bulbs hanging low from the ceiling, wooden tables and flooring surrounding them and the only other source of light the candle flickering between them as it reflects a warm orange glow against Elliot’s features. 

“So what kind of food do they do here?” Yaz asks as she reaches for a menu.

“Mainly Italian,” Elliot replies, reaching into her pocket to fish out her glasses and pop them on her nose. 

Yaz can’t help but stare for a moment before dragging her gaze back to the plethora of food listed before here.

“Their calzones are amazing.” she hears over her menu. “I love calzones Yaz, it’s a folded pizza! How cool is that?”

“Why am I not surprised calzone is one of your favourites?”

“I feel like we know each other quite well now, Yaz. So you should know I’m gonna love a folded pizza.” 

“Next breakfast you’ll be getting Ryan to fold your pancakes.”

There’s a glint in Elliot’s eye at the suggestion.

“Elliot…”

“What? You suggested it!” Elliot laughs, the fluttery sound fading when a waiter arrives and asks what they’re having to drink.

“A bottle of Lodovico please,” Elliot requests before glancing at Yaz, “You do like red, don’t you?”

“Depends on wine.”

“You’ll love this,” Elliot winks back.

“And are you two ladies ready to order your food?”

Elliot’s eyes find Yaz’s again and she sends an affirming nod the blonde’s way. 

“You first, Yaz,” Elliot offers. 

“Spinach and ricotta ravioli for me, please.”

“And you madame?” the waiter asks Elliot.

“I shall have the calzone, please.”

Yaz feels her lip quirk in a smile and watches Elliot grin back at her.

It doesn’t take long before the waiter is back with a bottle and two glasses, popping the cork and pouring a small amount for Elliot to test. With a nod of approval from the older woman, the waiter fills their glasses and leaves the bottle with them before heading off to serve their next table. 

“Give it a try,” Elliot nods to Yaz’s glass encouragingly. “Donna recommended me this once, it’s amazing, trust me.” 

With a tentative sip, Yaz tries the wine — and is pleasantly surprised when a slightly sweeter tang rolls along her taste buds. A sweeter red, Yaz shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Wow.” 

“See? Told you!”

“It’s sweeter than what I’ve had before.” 

“It is.” 

“You’ve got a sweet tooth, haven’t you?” 

“I do,” Elliot smirks, “Probably why I like you so much.”

Yaz grimaces. “Ew. That was terrible.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Elliot’s face scrunches up slightly before relaxing into a slight laugh that Yaz echoes.

The quieter Monday evening means the restaurant business is steady but never feels too crowded, and means their food arrives relatively fast. 

Elliot’s eyes practically shine in the candlelight when her calzone gets placed in front of her, and Yaz finds her excitement over the food oddly endearing. 

When the waiter walks off, Elliot places her napkin in her lap as she catches Yaz’s eye.

“A folded pizza, Yaz!”

Yaz has to admit, it does look impressive and it does look tasty and probably a bit more complex than simply a folded pizza, but she’ll let Elliot have this one. Before they tuck in, the older woman tops up their wine and Yaz notices they’re already halfway through the bottle.

She’s suddenly thankful that Italian is very carb based. 

The ravioli bursts with flavour with every bite, and by the moan that Elliot makes when she has her first mouthful, she’s sure hers is just as good. Over dinner they continue to chat idly, getting to know each other more and more during the time they spend together, and Yaz cherishes every new piece of information she learns like a precious golden nugget, storing them in her very own treasure chest in the back of her mind. 

As they eat, Yaz learns that Elliot spent a lot of her early twenties after university travelling, listing off a plethora of places such as East Asia, Australia, a good chunk of Europe, and Brazil. She also learns that when in Portugal, Elliot broke her wrist cliff diving and that Donna convinced her to do soil taste testing while extremely drunk on French wine. Yaz now has that knowledge that potted plant soil tastes the best. 

By the time they finish their main meals and dessert gets put in front of them (they both ordered lemon cheesecake) they’ve finished the wine. So, when a waiter next walks past Elliot calls them over to order two espresso martinis.

“Can’t go thirsty, can we, Yaz?” Is her excuse. 

Yaz is more than happy to agree.

The lemon is tart on her tongue but it’s also refreshing and the cream drizzled over the top dials down the intensity. Just as they finish, the cocktails are placed on the table and they cheers each other with a slightly tipsy clink of their glasses and take a sip. Elliot eats the coffee beans on top.

After chatting over their drinks a little while longer, Elliot eventually asks for the bill, and while she doesn’t bat an eye at the figure at the bottom of the receipt, Yaz almost chokes on the final dregs of her cocktail. 

“Do you um—” she coughs slightly, clearing her throat before continuing, “do you want me to put something toward that?”

“Hm?” Elliot frowns in confusion before following Yaz’s gaze to the thin paper in her hand, “Oh! No, not at all. Don’t be daft.” 

“But––”

“No buts. Consider this me treating you. Though, I’ll technically always be treating because I’m never expecting you to pay when we eat out, alright? You know it’s never gonna be an issue for me to cover the costs so don’t let yourself feel guilty about it, ok, Yaz? I want to pay for you.” Elliot assures as she seeks out Yaz’s hand on the table and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Okay,” Yaz concedes with a small smile.

Pulling her hand away, Elliot fishes her wallet out from her trouser pocket and places the correct amount of notes on the small tray — and then about a hundred pound extra. 

Yaz’s eyes practically bulge out of her skull at the sight.

“Flippin’ heck, Elliot!”

“What?”

“That’s one hell of a tip.”

“Is it?”

“I— Do you always tip like that.”

“Yeah? Should I not?” Elliot asks, genuine confusion scrunching up her face.

“No, you can tip how you want I just — the servers are lucky to have someone like you in tonight. Don’t think I’ve ever had a tip like that.”

“Well you should’ve. I bet you’re a brilliant waitress.”

Yaz sits up straight with a smug expression, “I’d like to think so.”

“Right,” Elliot says while standing, “ready to head off?”

“Yep.” Yaz agrees, following suit. 

It’s only when they step out of the restaurant that Elliot realises freezes.

“Ah…”

“What?” Yaz asks, suddenly anxious.

“I’ve just realised how much I’ve had to drink. I can’t drive us back to yours.”

With a considerable amount of alcohol in her system, all Yaz can think to do is laugh. “You’re such an idiot.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Elliot agrees, laughing along with her. “Well, I’ve still gotta grab my bag from it anyway but we can just get a taxi back and I’ll come get it tomorrow.”

After heading over to Elliot’s car to fetch her bag, she calls them a taxi and a few minutes later they’re in the warmth of a cab back to Yaz’s flat. 

They stumble slightly through the creaky door to Yaz’s home and she turns the light on. The bulb flickers before settling.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Yaz drawls as she dumps her coat over one of the kitchen chairs. “It’s pretty sad compared to your place. Think the microwave you got us is the nicest thing in here.”

“You don’t need to drag it down so much, Yaz. It’s honestly fine.” 

“You’re just saying that to be nice. Now come on, my room,” she says, grabbing Elliot’s hand and dragging her down the hall. 

“Is that you’re way of saying—”

“Yep.”

“Brillant,” Elliot grins, happily allowing herself to be pulled along and into Yaz’s room. 

Shutting the door behind her, Yaz closes the blinds and flicks her bedside lamp on before taking Elliot’s bag and placing it on her desk chair. Both women sit on the bed to tug their shoes off and before long, Yaz is in Elliot’s lap with their lips joined together. Elliot tastes like coffee and a little bit like cherry from the lip balm she used in the taxi, and Yaz sighs into the kiss when her lips part and Elliot’s tongue darts into her mouth. 

As the kiss deepens, Elliot’s grip tightens around Yaz’s waist as she clumsily maneuvers them — alcohol ruining her sense of balance — to lay down on the bed as she hovers over Yaz. 

“God this is what I missed.” Yaz mumbles against her lips.

“Me on top of you?”

“Yeah,” she replies, thinking back to a couple nights previous on one end of the phone.

As Elliot continues to kiss her, tongue swiping the back of her teeth, her cool hands sneak under her jumper, smoothing over toned abs and the slope of her ribs until her fingertips graze the fabric of her bra. 

That’s when Elliot pauses.

“Are you—”

“I’m wearing them, yeah.” 

“All of it?” Elliot swallows — hard.

“All of it,” Yaz confirms.

“God,” Elliot groans, “get this jumper off.” 

Yaz laughs in response to Elliot’s eagerness, lifting her arms so the other woman can tug the clothing over her head and toss it behind her.

“Yaz,” Elliot breathes, sitting back on her heels to take in the view in the low light of the room, “It’s even better on you in real life.”

Suddenly feeling a little vulnerable under Elliot’s intense gaze, Yaz has to resist the temptation to cover herself. Yet, Elliot being Elliot, and seemingly able to read her like a book, is ready with reassurance. “You’re gorgeous, Yaz. You really are.”

She states it like it’s fact, dipping back down to find Yaz’s lips and seal her compliments with a delicate kiss before paying attention to Yaz’s jaw, nipping lightly with her teeth before trailing hot kisses down her neck and cupping her over the fabric of her bra. Yaz pushes herself up into Elliot’s touch, encouraging her along as Elliot’s free hand runs down her waist to grasp her hip and run small circles over the jutting bone. Wet lips soon trail lower to Yaz’s collarbone and down her sternum, tending to every bit of exposed flesh as Elliot’s hands move to unbutton Yaz’s jeans.

Deciding to help with undressing, Yaz reaches behind her back to find the clasp of bra — that is until Elliot stops her. “Leave it on,” she insists.

Pulling her hands away, Yaz lets them rest loosely around Elliot’s neck, “Like it that much?”

Elliot just grins up at her, something dark behind her eyes, “I really do.”

Making swift work of Yaz’s jeans, Elliot yanks them off her ankles and drops them off the bed before running smooth hands up Yaz’s legs, up the sheer fabric of tight stockings all the way to the red lace of Yaz’s underwear. 

“I can’t believe you sometimes, Yaz, you know? You honestly look amazin’ in these.” The tips of Elliot’s fingers run over the lacy hem until she forces herself up off the bed. “Now wait there. You said on the phone you wanted surprising so…” Elliot trails off, unzipping her bag and rummaging around inside.

Yaz lies on the bed, hands fisting in the sheets as she waits in anticipation for Elliot to turn around, and when she does, Yaz loses the breath she’s inhaling. 

In Elliot’s hand is a deep purple strap-on, the harness hanging over Elliot’s palm as the blonde gauges Yaz’s expression. “Yes or no? I won’t be offended, Yaz.”

“Yes,” Yaz replies embarrassingly fast and Elliot smirks.

“Help me undress?” she asks then, starting to unbutton her shirt. Yaz quickly sits up and shuffles to the end of the bed, pausing Elliot’s hands with her own.

“Can you—” Yaz clears her dry throat, “Can you leave your clothes on… for now.”

Elliot’s gaze falls south, taking in her outfit of a plain white shirt and navy checked trousers before moving back up to Yaz’s face. “This do it for you?” Elliot asks as her smirk grows and Yaz shoves her lightly.

“Yes,” she mumbles, “It does so—” she gestures to Elliot’s crotch, “— sort yourself out, yeah?” 

“Yes, boss.” Elliot mock salutes, dropping her backside to the bed to slip off her trousers and underwear, pull on the harness, and pull her trousers back up. Shifting on the edge of the bed, Elliot makes her way back up the mattress on her knees, button and zip of her trousers undone and toy settled neatly on her hips. 

Yaz can’t help the muttered curse that slips from her lips. 

Leaning forward, Elliot’s fingertips reach under the fabric of Yaz’s underwear, dragging them slowly down her legs until all she’s left in is her bra and stockings. From her pocket, Elliot pulls a small tube of lube and pops the cap.

“Did you—” Yaz interrupts her preparation, “Was that in your pocket this _whole_ time?” she laughs.

“Wh— no! Yaz! I got from my bag.” Elliot startles, though she quickly sees the funny side of it.

“I were gonna say!”

Yaz’s laughter soon fades as she watches Elliot squirt the lube into her palm and slowly jerk the toy to cover its surface. She’s pretty sure it’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen in her life. The sight alone has the fire in her belly burning something wild as her mouth goes dry in anticipation. 

Shuffling forward a touch more, Elliot slots herself between Yaz’s legs as one hand runs up her thighs to meet wet heat, running her fingers slowly through Yaz’s core as her head falls back against the pillows. 

Coating her fingers, Elliot teases through soaked folds until she presses a finger inside Yaz. She pumps slowly at first, soon adding as second and Yaz feels herself clench around the welcome intrusion when fingertips brush against sensitive walls and her hips roll slowly with Elliot’s rhythm. Her fingers press deep and slow before adding a third and allowing Yaz to get used to the stretch. At the press of a third finger, Yaz moans deeply, hand finding Elliot’s forearm and feeling the flex of her muscles as she thrusts.

“Okay?” she asks after a moment when Yaz’s breathing picks up.

“Yeah,” Yaz breathes, eyelashes fluttering at the sensation.

Once Yaz is used to the stretch, taking Elliot’s fingers comfortably, the blondes pulls them out and wipes them on the sheets. 

“Right — ready?” 

“Ready,” Yaz confirms.

Hoisting one of Yaz’s legs up, Elliot rests it against her hip and lines up the toy with the other. Before pressing it inside, she runs cool silicone through Yaz’s folds, pressing the tip teasingly against her clit hard enough for Yaz to moan before sliding it back down and slowly pressing inside. She keeps going to the hilt, and for a moment Yaz loses her breath, watching as they both come together. The stretch is foregin but welcome and the feel of silicone so smooth is new — she assumes that all of Elliot’s toys aren’t cheap. The thought alone sends a shiver up Yaz’s spine. 

“How does it feel?” Elliot asks, pulling Yaz from her brief spell in her mind.

“Good,” she replies, “Really good. You can move.”

Elliot does, pulling out slowly before pressing all the way back in and gradually picking up the pace as they both get used to the sensations. 

With Elliot on top of her and filling her, one forearm resting by her head while the other holds her leg up, breaths mingling when Elliot seeks her eyes, it feels the most intimate they’ve been so far. Yaz is soon distracted from any thoughts when Elliot manages to angle her hips so the tip brushes against a particularly sensitive spot that has Yaz crying out and her thighs trembling, and it doesn’t take long for Elliot to find it again. 

Carding her fingers through blonde strands, Yaz pulls Elliot close, capturing her lips in a heated kiss and pushing her tongue into her mouth as Elliot presses deep inside. When the noises she’s making become too much to conceal, Yaz pulls away and grabs at Elliot’s shirt when she starts fucking harder into her. 

The headboard starts ramming against the wall and Yaz can’t bring herself to care if the neighbours can hear as long as Elliot keeps making her feel this good. The knot in her stomach coils tighter and tighter with every thrust and when Elliot starts to quietly grunt above her it’s like music to her ears as Yaz’s eyes feel like they roll into the back of her head in pleasure.

“Fuck, Elliot,” she moans, “I’m gonna come.”

It’s obvious Elliot has acknowledged her when she sets a punishing pace, lifting herself up to grasp at Yaz hips and she drives the toy into her with enough force for the sound of skin-on-skin to bounce off the walls along with the slick, filthy sounds of Yaz’s arousal around the toy. 

When one of Elliot’s hands finds Yaz’s breasts and gropes her roughly, Yaz comes. The knot in her stomach snaps and her back arches as she goes stiff, chest pressing into Elliot’s hand as she moans loudly, grip hard enough in the woman’s shirt to crease. She feels herself pulse around around the toy still thrusting inside her until she relaxes, panting heavily and covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Fucking hell,” she utters, when Elliot finally slows to a stop to catch her own breath. 

Through a few heavy breaths and a smirk, Elliot manages to reply, “I’m not done with you yet.”

The woman’s words shoot a new burst of heat straight to Yaz’s core.

Elliot pulls out, presses a kiss to Yaz’s lips, and grabs one of her hips. “Turn over,” she gently requests, and Yaz is more than happy to comply.

Yaz rests her forehead on her arms as her knees press into the mattress, and she shivers when she feels Elliot’s fingers run up her spine while her other hand grabs her backside. When she pushes back inside Yaz, Elliot sighs and Yaz moans, eyes falling shut as sensitive walls flutter around the toy. 

“Oh fuck,” Yaz breathes when Elliot bottoms out and hits a spot that has Yaz losing her breath for a moment.

“Have you I told you how amazin’ you look, Yaz? You take me so well.”

“God,” Yaz mumbles against the skin of her arm.

Elliot doesn’t take long to pick up the pace again, slamming the toy inside her with every thrust, the headboard still banging repeatedly against the wall and Yaz is convinced she’s starting to drool into the pillow, barely caring for the mess that Elliot’s skill leaves her.

The sudden feeling of a sting against her skin when Elliot’s hand comes down against her backside is something Yaz doesn’t expect, but when the smack reverberates against the walls along with her following moan, she finds she likes a bit of pain with her pleasure. 

“Again,” she moans, and she doesn’t have to turn around to know Elliot is smirking when her hand comes down again a little harder this time and another moan breaks free from Yaz’s lungs.

“Oh fuck,” Yaz whines into sheets, gripping tight as the burning in her stomach turns into an inferno. 

“Are you close?” Elliot groans, grip tightening on Yaz’s hips.

“Yes,” she manages to utter in reply.

“Come for me, Yaz. Come on,” Elliot encourages, and really, it’s all she needs when she cries out, her moan dragging out along with her orgasm until her chest is heaving and her thighs are damp with her arousal.

When Elliot pulls out entirely, the sound is slick and Yaz rolls onto her side, watching as Elliot sits back on the edge of the bed to sort herself out. 

“Leave your trousers off,” Yaz says as Elliot goes to pull them back on after removing the strap-on. 

“Are you sure?” Elliot asks at the suggestion, “You must be pretty tired, I—”

“I want to,” Yaz interrupts, “I always want to. Now come here.” Yaz gestures with a roll of her head and an outstretched hand. 

Elliot takes it and follows Yaz’s directions to lay on her back, helping her to lie between pale thighs, coming face to face with Elliot’s glistening core and receiving all the more confirmation that the woman loves to be a giver. 

When Yaz swipes her tongue through slick heat, Elliot’s hands find her hair as her head falls back against the pillow. “God, Yaz you’re so good.”

Elliot’s words only incentivise her further, lapping at her clit before taking it between her lips and sucking hard. Elliot moans as her hips rise into Yaz’s mouth and the woman is as loud ever when Yaz works her mouth enthusiastically against her. 

While one hand grips Elliot’s thigh, the other snakes beneath her shirt, running along smooth skin until she reaches the hem of Elliot’s bra and pushes past the fabric to find an already pebbled nipple. She pinches the bud between her fingers and Elliot cries out as she desperately grinds her hips against Yaz’s mouth. 

Elliot doesn’t say when she’s about to come, though she doesn’t need to. The increasing pitch of her moans gives her away, and as she reaches her climax against Yaz’s mouth, Yaz watches her come undone. She thinks she looks incredible when she does, and saves the image for when she spends nights alone. Yaz finally pulls her mouth away when Elliot relaxes back into the sheets and she climbs up to rest her head against the other woman’s shoulder. 

“Have I said you’re amazin’?”

“You have, like, twice already.”

“Well, Yasmin Khan, I’m gonna say it again. You’re amazin’.”

“And so are you,” Yaz laughs, “Fucking hell, I don’t think I’ll be able to feel my legs in the morning.”

“And you’re a potty mouth in bed.”

“You’re point?”

“Nothing,” Elliot smiles, “I like it.”

* * *

When Yaz wakes up the next morning, she’s still curled into Elliot’s side, her leg draped over the other woman’s thighs and her arm around her waist. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she sits up slightly and reaches for her phone to check the time.

10am. 

“ _Urgh,”_ Yaz groans, slowly peeling herself from Elliot’s naked form — they’d both been too lazy to find pyjamas after stripping off. Carefully pulling the covers off herself, being careful so as not to disturb Elliot, Yaz stands on shaky legs to seek out some sleep shorts and a hoodie off the back of her chair and quickly slip them on. 

She slowly opens her door, the hinge creaking slightly along with the floorboard under her foot as she makes her way to the kitchen. When she turns the corner and the table comes into view, Yaz’s stomach drops.

“Well, good morning,” Bill quips with a shit-eating grin.

_Great._

“Morning,” Yaz replies, “I uh — I didn’t realise you were back today?”

“Yeah I bet you didn’t. I got back last night.”

“...Oh.”

“Yeah,” Bill looks so unbelievably smug that Yaz wants to smack the look off her face. “Have a good night, did we?”

“Shut up.” 

“Certainly sounded like it.”

“Bill.”

“Might have to check your walls not dented if—”

“Yaz?” A voice calls out from down the hall, and along with her stomach Yaz’s heart drops like a ten tonne anvil. “Have you got a towel so that I can take a show—”

Elliot rounds the corner and freezes, Yaz freezes, and Bill’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Oh — my God.” Is the next thing to come out of her friend’s mouth.


	4. I am a diamond, and diamonds are forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiii we're back!!! uni is done and i am writing once more!!
> 
> god i missed these two so fuckin much y'all u have no idea
> 
> anyways i hope people are still around to care about this story after such a long break and if are i shan't keep u waiting and i hope the wait was worth it x

After a harrowingly long silence, Yaz speaks first.

“Bill—“

“Doc—“

“Yaz—“

“Doc?!”

“Bill it’s not—“

“Oh, this is  _ exactly  _ what it looks like.”

Elliot’s gaze flits between Yaz and Bill as she tugs awkwardly at the drawstrings of a borrowed hoodie, “Erm… Yaz I think—“

“I think,” Yaz starts as she spins to face her, “You should go take that shower, yeah?” 

Elliot stares blankly until Yaz shoots her a pointed look, “Oh! Right, yes. Um — towel?”

“Bottom drawer of my dresser.”

“Right, thanks. I’m gonna just—“ Elliot points a thumb over her shoulder, “Yeah.”

Once Elliot is gone, the door to the bathroom falling shut and the creaking of water through old pipes rumbling quietly beneath filling the silence, Yaz heaves a sigh and turns to her best friend.

She finds an expression that was initially shock, has now turned into the biggest, most shit-eating grin Yaz has ever seen. All she can do is groan loudly in response.

“So—“ 

“ _ Don’t,”  _ Yaz says, running a hand down her face and dropping into the seat opposite to Bill. 

“Dr Smith, huh?”

“Oh my God.”

“Didn’t realise you had it in you to seduce a teacher, Yaz. Fair play.”

“I didn’t—“ 

“Though I did say you both had a hard on for each other so—“

“Bill!”

“How’s your arse? Still stinging?”

“Bill please, this is already embarrassing enough,” Yaz sighs, cheeks flushing bright red.

“Hope you haven’t damaged the wall too much, need that deposit back at the end of the contract you know.”

“For—”

“Alright, I’ll stop — for now.”

“Thanks,” Yaz says begrudgingly. 

Bill takes a bite of her toast. “She’s loud.”

“ _ Bill. _ ”

“Alright! Alright!” Bill relents, hands coming up in surrender. 

Yaz runs a stressed hand through her hair, unnerved by Bill’s sudden silence. She wonders if she preferred the teasing.

“Seriously though?” her friend finally speaks up.

Yaz lifts her head to meet Bill’s gaze.

“Seriously,” she says with the twitch of a smile.

“Oh God,” Bill groans, leaning back in her chair.

“What?” Yaz frowns.

“You’ve gone all soft.”

“What?”

“You had a right dopey smile on your lips then, Yaz.” Bill’s eyes suddenly widen. “Oh my god, it’s more than just shagging isn’t it?!”

“ _ Bill, _ ” Yaz groans.

“It is, isn’t it?”

There’s a long pause before Yaz answers. “Yes.”

“Holy shit.”

“Bill you can’t tell anyone, I’m serious. We could get in trouble.” 

“I won’t, I promise. Doesn't mean I ain’t gonna take the piss though.” Bill grins.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

There’s a beat before Bill speaks again.

“Can’t you believe you got the milf, Yaz.”

“Oh my  _ God  _ shut up! She might hear you!”

“Come on, Yaz, that woman  _ knows  _ she’s a milf.” 

“ _ Urgh _ .”

“Ok for real though, it’s not like some dodgy agreement for money, right?”

“No!” Yaz defends, “We both really like each other, it’s more than sex or money. I promise.”

“Alright,” Bill quirks an eyebrow, “She’s still sort of your sugar mummy though.” 

“Hey, that sugar mummy got us a new microwave.”

“That was her?!”

“Yep.”

“I wondered who your mystery supplier was.” There’s another brief silence while Yaz watches the cogs turn in Bill’s brain, so she uses the opportunity to nick a slice of her friend’s forgotten toast. 

“So, speaking of sex…”

Yaz chokes on the crumbs.

“Is she good?”

“Bill—” Yaz coughs.

“She is, isn’t she? I could hear it, Yaz, you may as well spill all.”

Yaz puts the toast back down and swallows before sighing, “Yes she’s —  _ very  _ good.”

“All that experience, eh?”

“I mean… you’re not wrong.”

“I still can’t believe this, you know.” Bill chuckles.

“Neither can I. She’s amazing Bill.  _ Out  _ of the bedroom as well, stop giving me that look.”

“So is she like your girlfriend then?”

“We–” Yaz pauses, “We haven’t had that conversation yet.”

“Do you hope you’ll have that conversation?” Bill presses.

“Yeah, I do.” Yaz answers without hesitation.

“God, you’ll be moving in next. Very stereotypical of you, Yaz.” 

“Bill—” Yaz stops when she hears the bathroom lock twist and the door open, both women staying silent as they listen to the pad of feet against the floor until the door to Yaz’s room shuts. 

Bill and Yaz are silent for another moment until the scrape of Yaz’s chair against the linoleum floor fills the room. “I should probably—”

“Oh, no, you go, Yaz. I’m sure you’re eager to get under that towel.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” Yaz rolls her eyes even though she’s grinning and jogs down the hallway toward her room.

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Bill calls purposefully loud enough for Elliot to hear and Yaz sticks her middle finger up in reply. 

As her bedroom door falls shut behind her, the last thing Yaz hears of the world outside her room is Bill’s laughter down the hall.

“Elliot, babe, I’m so sorry I honestly had no idea Bill was gonna be back. She didn’t tell me, otherwise, I wouldn’t have suggested coming back here. She promises she won’t tell anyone about us and I trust her not to but—”

“You called me babe.”

“What?”

“You just called me babe,” Elliot smiles softly. 

“Did I? Sorry I won’t—”

“I like it.”

“Oh…” The smile on Elliot’s face makes Yaz lose track of her thoughts until the worry storming away inside her almost dissipates entirely. Almost.”Um — anyway, Elliot, I’m sorry—” 

“Yaz,” Elliot interrupts, stepping forward to grasp Yaz’s upper arms, “stop apologising. You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault. We’ll be ok, I promise.” 

Elliot’s reassuring words wash Yaz’s worry away, replacing it with the warmth of relief as she falls into Elliot’s arms and hums at the press of lips against her forehead. “Okay,” she replies simply, clutching lightly at the towel clinging to Elliot’s back.

It’s another couple of hours before Elliot makes to depart, calling an Uber to take her to the car she left abandoned in the restaurant parking lot. Yaz reluctantly guides her to the door, both of them standing awkwardly in the doorway until Yaz speaks up.

“See you tomorrow?” 

“See you tomorrow,” Elliot affirms, reaching a hand up to cup Yaz’s face before pulling her into a gentle kiss goodbye. She pulls away just as her phone buzzes. 

“Ah, that must be my Uber.” Pulling her phone out her pocket, Elliot takes two attempts to unlock it, “Yep. Wilfred Mott is outside. Right! Better get going. See ya, Yaz!”

Planting a final kiss on Yaz’s lips, Elliot heads out the door and down the stairs out of Yaz’s sight. 

With a sigh, Yaz shuts the door and leans against the cool wood for a moment before heading back to the kitchen where Bill is waiting for her with a smug grin. 

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to.”

Spinning on her heel, Bill turns to flick the kettle and pull a flask from the cupboard above her head. 

“Was gonna go library and get some work done today, wanna come?” she offers, hand readily hovering next to Yaz’s own flask in preparation of her friend’s agreement. 

“Yeah, actually. Good idea.” Yaz accepts, smiling gratefully as Bill pulls her flask from the shelf and places it on the side. 

“I’ll make coffees and you sort the Uber then, yeah? I’ll pay for the one back.”

Pulling her phone from her pocket, Yaz heads back to her room to ready her bag for the library and grab her warmest coat in preparation to brace to the cold waiting for them outside.

* * *

The campus is quiet as the two friends stroll through, the wind blowing bitterly through their hair and whipping scarves tighter around their necks. Yaz feels her phone vibrate in her back pocket as they walk, though she chooses to ignore it in favour of keeping her hands in the warm pockets of her coat. As eager as she may be to respond to a text that is most likely from Elliot.

Bill and Yaz are discussing plans for their next night out when someone calls out Yaz’s name, her head spinning to catch sight of two classmates she hasn’t seen since before the break. 

“How are you?” Grace calls, letting go of Mike’s hand to pull Yaz into a brief hug.

“Yeah I’m not bad, what about you guys?” Yaz asks, looking between the two, “You got much work done?”

“I’ve done nothing,” Mike laughs.

“Eh, I’ve done a bit, not loads, what about you?”

“Not much either, to be honest. Me and Bill are going to the library now to do some work actually. You could come with us if you want?” Yaz offers, it would feel rude not to.

“Thanks for the offer, but me and Mike are heading to the new bistro down the road for our six month anniversary.” Grace smiles, linking her hands with Mike’s once more. 

The action makes something churn uncomfortably in Yaz’s gut and her smile falters for a moment before she plasters it back on. “Ah, sounds nice! Well, happy anniversary.”

“Thanks! We’ve spent most of the break together to be fair but it’s just nice to get out of the house and actually do something, you know?”

“Yeah,” Yaz agrees.

“Defo.” Bill nods along with her.

“Have you done much over the holidays, Yaz?” Mike asks then, and Yaz hears Bill snort next to her. Shooting her friend a frown, Bill swallows her laugh and looks to the cloudy sky in an attempt to stay calm.

“I went home for a weekend to see my family, but apart from that I’ve just been working.” 

“Ah right.” There's a brief pause that lingers a little too long. “Well, we best get off, otherwise we’ll be late. See you in class, Yaz.” Grace regards as she and Mike step around the two friends toward their date.

“Yeah, see ya,” Yaz waves before turning back to Bill with a huff. “Not. A. Word.”

“What  _ have  _ you been doing this holiday, Yaz?”

“Bill—”

“Not a university lecturer by any chance is it?” Bill says with a deep-set grin.

“Bill!” Yaz chides.

“You’ve been  _ very  _ busy with that.  _ Getting off. _ ”

“ _ God  _ I wish you didn’t find out.”

“And I wish I didn’t have to hear her smacking your arse through the walls yet here we are.”

“...I hate you.”

* * *

The light in the study room is a little harsh and the warmth of it is stuffy, but the two students make do for the privacy it allows for work and conversation. They set their laptops down on the table opposite each other and Bill cracks open the window to let some of cooler, fresher air in. 

Before settling down to work, Yaz heads out to grab some books. As she wanders down the isles, her mind does the same. She thinks back to Mike and Grace and how openly affectionate they could be. How she and Elliot won’t ever be afforded the same luxury. Before she can drift too far, Yaz forces herself back to reading the titles of the books she scans and realises she’s in the completely wrong isle. Huffing to herself, she trudges around the corner to the next row of books and finds what she’s looking for. 

Pulling what she needs from the shelves, Yaz makes her way back to the room, dropping the books down on the table with a  _ thud  _ and dropping into her chair with a sigh. Almost instantly, Bill pulls her headphones out.

“Right, what’s up with you?”

“What?”

“I said what’s up with you? I can tell something’s wrong.”

Yaz pauses for a moment before relenting to Bill’s persistence, “It’s just — I dunno it’s stupid.”

“I bet it’s not. Come on, Yaz.”

“It was just seeing Mike and Grace earlier.”

“And?”

“And how affectionate they are with each other — publicly. Me and Elliot will never get to do that. It could get us both in so much trouble I bet. And when uni starts up again we’ll have to be even more careful on campus and when we go out. Imagine if someone from uni saw us and grassed!” Yaz vents.

“Well, Yaz, I mean — you  _ did _ kinda bring this on yourself with who you chose to date.” Bill grimaces in sympathy. 

“I know, I know. I’m aware of who I’ve chosen to be with and what that means for us and stuff. I’m willing to make the sacrifice. Doesn’t mean it isn’t shit though. “ 

“To be fair that does sound shit. I’m sorry, Yaz. I wish I knew what to say but—”

“It’s alright, Bill. I think I just needed to vent to someone, to be honest. There’s not much anyone can do.”

“You really care about her, don’t you?” Bill asks after a brief silence, and Yaz feels her face turn soft with a smile. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Gross,” Bill teases.

“Shut up,” Yaz says as she leans over the table to smack Bill’s arm.

“To be fair, the biggest shame of it all is the fact you can’t show off, like — the hottest milf to exist.”

Yaz scowls playfully, ready to chide her friend until she decides to give Bill an answer she doubts she’s expecting. “You know what —  _ exactly. _ ” Yaz grins.

Bill bursts out laughing, and two minutes later, they get their first warning knocking at the door with a noise complaint. 

It’s a couple of hours later and a few paragraphs of progress later when Yaz’s phone buzzes with a text and Elliot’s name lighting up her phone screen. With a small smile, Yaz picks up the device and unlocks it, instantly bringing up the message.

_ Elliot [4:04pm]: Hiya, Yaz! Hope you’re okay. Sorry I haven’t messaged much I’ve been pretty busy. Also hope Bill hasn’t been too cruel LOL. xx _

_ Yaz [4:05pm]: I’m good! Hope ur ok too, i’m just at the library with her tbf and yes she has taken the piss a lot xx _

_ Elliot [4:05pm]: OOPS. Sorry. You’re quite lucky to be honest, I nearly didn’t put clothes on before coming out of your room this morning. Could you imagine what that would’ve been like!!!  _

_ Elliot [4:05pm]: Also nice to hear you’re at the library. I know you’re going to ace your dissertation Yaz xx _

_ Elliot [4:06pm]: Oh also! Did you take food with you?? Got to keep your energy up if you’re working!! xx _

_ Elliot: [4:06pm]: Sorry that was a lot of messages I’ll give you chance to reply now. (Sorry for this one too) _

Yaz snorts at the messages and catches Bill glance up from her laptop before rolling her eyes and focusing back on its screen.

_ Yaz [4:06pm]: You have no idea how glad i am that you put clothes on that would’ve been MORTIFYING. I literally never would’ve heard the end of it from bill. Also no forgot lol i only bought water and coffee _

_ Elliot [4:07pm]: Yaz!! >:( Right I’m sending you food what do you want?? (Bill too) xx _

_ Yaz [4:07pm]: Elliot we’ll be fine honestly i’ll grab something from the vending machine xx _

_ Elliot [4:08pm]: This isn’t me offering, Yaz. I’m making sure you get some proper food not an expired granola bar from a vending machine so what do you want xx _

Leaning forward, Yaz taps the top of Bill’s laptop screen to get her attention and waits until she plucks out an earphone.

“What?”

“What do you want for dinner? Elliot’s buying.”

“Of  _ course  _ she is,” Bill grins cheekily.

“Do you want food or not?”

“Obviously. Oh! How about that sick chinese just down the road from here? Their spring rolls are  _ everything _ .”

“Oh my God, they aren’t they? Good shout. What do you want then?”

After both deciding on their food choices, Yaz texts Elliot back with her answer and a thank you.

_ Elliot [4:16pm]: Not a problem Yaz. xx _

_ Elliot [4:21pm]: Just ordered, it’ll be about 40 mins, I gave them your number and they’ll meet you at reception with it. (Yes I know you’re not supposed to have hot food in the library and yes I am a lecturer who should be enforcing that rule but I’ll make an exception for you.) _

_ Elliot [4:21pm]: Also if you use the back entrance on the bottom floor you’re more likely to successfully sneak it in xx _

_ Elliot [4:21pm]: Definitely not from experience by the way xx _

_ Yaz [4:22pm]: Of course its not i defo believe you ;)  _

_ Elliot [4:22pm]: Hope you enjoy! Kind of want chinese myself now I’m a bit jealous. Might order some myself later xx _

_ Yaz [4:22pm]: Do it xx _

_ Elliot [4:23pm]: Maybe I will! :D xx _

It’s just after five o'clock when Yaz’s phone rings with the arrival of their food. She meets the delivery man at the university reception and follows Elliot’s instructions, successfully sneaking the food into the study room. 

“That smells  _ amazing, _ ” Bill groans when Yaz shuts the door, “Gimme.”

“Alright, be patient. Right,” Yaz starts unloading the food out the bag, “Spring rolls for us both, my veggie chow mein and your salt and pepper chicken and egg fried rice. And some free prawn crackers so they’re all yours.”

“Result!” Bill cheers quietly. They could really do without another warning when they have a table full of incriminating but delicious chinese food in front of them both. A library ban is the last thing they need. 

After tapping their spring rolls together in cheers they both take their first bites, the crunch of filo pastry filling the room.

“Oh my God,” Yaz moans.

“So good,” Bill agrees, “Thank you Yaz’s sugar mummy.”

Yaz just rolls her eyes, “Thank you,  _ Elliot _ , indeed.” 

When Yaz finds herself tucked up in bed later with Netflix playing in the background after a day’s work and a stomach full of chinese food, she receives another text from Elliot with an image of takeaway food attached and a slightly blurred thumbs up in front of it.

_ Elliot [9:33pm]: I did it xx _

* * *

When Yaz’s Uber pulls up outside Elliot’s high-rise it’s still raining, so she’s more than grateful when she sees Elliot stood at the entrance ready to let her in. 

“Hi!” Yaz says with a huff as she pulls her hood down, water rolling off it and dripping to the granite tiles below, “So glad you came down.”

“Well, I weren’t gonna make you wait around in this weather, Yaz.” Grabbing her hand and linking their fingers, Elliot practically drags them toward the lift. “Anyways, come on, I’ve got something exciting to tell you!” she grins as the doors slide open and they are greeted by their reflections in the mirror opposite.

“Really? What?” Yaz asks in intrigue. 

“I’ll tell you once we get in.” Elliot winks. 

Once the door to Elliot’s penthouse closes behind them, Yaz pulls her hand away and folds her arms across her chest. “Right then, spill. I can practically  _ feel  _ the excitement buzzing off you.”

“Okay so, I got a call yesterday and I’ve been invited — with a plus one — to a charity gala up at the old manor just out of the city!” 

“Isn’t that something snobby rich people go to?”

“I mean — yes,  _ but  _ the last time I went to one was with Missy and it were rubbish but this time we can go together! It’ll be brilliant. No one from the uni will be there so we’ll be fine and it’s and just an excuse to dress up nice and drink lots of free champagne. What do you think?!”

“It sounds great but, I don’t really know if I’ll fit in?” Yaz answers with apprehension.

Elliot’s shoulders slump a little, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re  _ you,  _ you know? You actually  _ are  _ mega rich and can wear a super expensive suit and mingle with all the other rich people and I’m just  _ me, _ ” Yaz states as she gestures to herself. “I’m just a broke student.”

“Yaz, don’t be daft. I were gonna offer to buy you your outfit anyway _,_ _ah,_ let me finish because I _want_ to. Because I want to buy things for my –– for you. Because I like you a lot and I want you to feel comfortable and gorgeous in whatever you want. You’ll fit in regardless I promise. I’m not joking when I say people have shown up to these things in trackie bottoms in the past.”

Yaz’s laugh is a little watery in reply, “Seriously? Even I have clothes nicer than a pair of joggers for a gala.” 

“Exactly! I promise you would look amazing and fit in no problem with what you have in your own wardrobe but I would really love to buy you something for it. I — I like buying things for you.” Elliot confesses with a flush to her cheeks.

_ I like when you buy me things too _ , is what Yaz wants to say, thinking about the odd heat that pools in her stomach when Elliot does so and elects to ignore the feeling for now and instead accepts Elliot’s invitation.

“Alright, no matter what it’d be a good night anyway with you there.” 

“My charm is always a winner in the eyes of the ladies,” Elliot says smugly as she loosens her tie.

“Whatever,” Yaz says with a roll of her eyes as she tugs at the end of the tie.

“Won you over didn’t it?” Elliot grins.

“You keep thinking that,” Yaz playfully rebuts, closing the small gap between their mouths to capture Elliot’s lips in a lingering kiss.

When Yaz pulls away she can’t help the feeling of satisfaction at the sigh that escapes Elliot’s lungs. “You know if I’m gonna buy you something, I’ll need your measurements,” she says, fingers slipping under the hem of Yaz’s jumper. 

“Is that just an excuse to get me naked?”

“Only down to your underwear.”

“Oh, how convenient.” 

“I like to be thorough in everything I do.”

“Now that I  _ do  _ know.” 

* * *

The measuring tape is cool as it wraps around Yaz’s waist, forcing her to flinch as goosebumps ripple along her skin. The gap between her and Elliot is minimal, and she focuses on the concentrated scrunch of the other woman’s brow.

“Sorry,” Elliot mumbles, noticing the prickle to Yaz’s flesh. 

“It’s alright,” Yaz shrugs as she tickles the baby hairs at the back of Elliot’s neck with her fingertips. She watches the corner of the woman’s lip flinch at the teasing touch.

“You know you’re making it hard to focus,” Elliot states as she writes the measurement down in her notepad.

“Am I?” Yaz smirks and Elliot’s gaze flicks up to meet her with a chuckle.

“You’re terrible.”

“You’re the one who wanted me down to my underwear.”

“Yasmin Khan,” Elliot starts with faux innocence, “I always want you down to your underwear — preferably even less.”

Yaz just laughs in response, her chest warming at the ease the two of them banter with, though the sound soon fades as Elliot slowly drops to her knees.

“Well, wasn’t it expecting it so soon but if you insist,” Yaz says with a raise of her brows.

“Now now, Yaz, I’m simply measuring your inner seam.”

“Right,” Yaz drags the word along her tongue, resting a hand on the base of Elliot’s skull as she encourages Yaz’s legs a step apart and stretches the tape along her leg and up her thigh, fingertips knowingly brushing sensitive skin. Elliot’s hand stops just before the warmth between Yaz’s legs and she spots the smirk on the other woman’s lips — it’s obvious she’s noticed the heat, but Yaz is far from ashamed. They’ve been flirting back and forth this entire process, what were they both expecting?

Staying on her knees, Elliot drops the tape measure to the floor and reaches for her notepad to write down the final of Yaz’s measurements before tossing it onto the bedside table next to them.

“Done?” Yaz asks, looking down at Elliot. Something about staring down at the other woman on her knees makes Yaz need to swallow hard as a jolt of heat pulses through her.

“Not quite.” 

“No? What’s left?”

Elliot’s hands run up the outer of Yaz’s thighs, “Just one more measurement.” 

“Oh yeah?” Yaz breathes, “And what’s that?”

“Measuring how quickly I can make you come,” Elliot grins, hands moving to Yaz’s hips to push back onto the bed. 

“Don’t think that’s by the tailoring book,” Yaz plays along, leaning up on her elbows to spot the hunger in Elliot’s eyes as her fingers sneak past the fabric of her underwear. 

“It’s definitely not.”

“Good,” Yaz smirks, lifting her hips to help Elliot drag her underwear over strong thighs. 

Once discarded, Elliot shuffles forward and brings Yaz’s thighs up to rest over her shoulders, wrapping her hands securely around them to hold her in place. “Lie back.”

Yaz does as she’s told, dropping back into the soft sheets and running her hands through Elliot’s hair between her thighs. Her own breathing picks up when she feels the hot breath of Elliot’s mouth inches from her, hips kicking up slightly in anticipation that is soon sated by the brush of a tongue through silken folds. 

It’s exactly two minutes and thirteen seconds later that Elliot gets her answer and a slightly sore scalp from the tugging of Yaz’s hands. 

* * *

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean am I sure? You trying to make me doubt myself, Yaz?” Elliot frowns.

“I just want you to be sure.”

“Yaz—”

“Fine, pull it out then.”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“I’m not giving you any look.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You ar—”

“Elliot, just pull it out.”

Alright! Alright!”

Using her finger, Elliot slowly starts to push until the wooden block starts to stick out the other side. Shuffling around the coffee table, she uses her other hand to successfully pull it and create another gap in the small wooden tower. 

“Look at that!” She beams at Yaz, “Told you I’m ace at Jenga, stop making me question myself with your mind games.”

“It’s all part of my tactic, babe.” Yaz winks before turning her attention to the block tower to gauge which piece to pull out next. She sips on her gin thoughtfully, ignoring how Elliot’s eyes bore into her. Yet there is only so long her gin fuelled mind can ignore it for. “What?” she asks without looking.

“Nothing. It’s just–” Elliot pauses to take a sip of her own gin “–You’re really pretty.” 

Yaz laughs breezily as she turns to face the older woman, “And you’re a sap.”

“Oi,” Elliot pouts, “You’re supposed to say something nice back you know.”

Yaz rolls her eyes playfully, “You’re really pretty too, babe.” 

With a bashful chuckle, Elliot closes the gap between them to plant a kiss on Yaz’s lips, “I really like that you call me babe.”

“Then I shall keep on doing it — babe,” Yaz smiles. “Now, stop distracting me while I’m trying to win.” 

“I think you’ll find you’re losing.”

“Babe, no one loses Jenga until someone makes the tower fall.”

“I know. And I’m a Jenga  _ pro _ so I already know you’re going to lose.”

“Wow.”

Ignoring the contagious grin and alcohol blush to Elliot’s cheeks, Yaz spots the block she wants to remove. It’s an outer block, and a risk, but she’s confident regardless of the slight fuzz to her vision. Tapping the block gently, it starts move bit by bit and Yaz can feel her tongue stick out the side of her mouth in concentration. What she isn’t anticipating, is the sudden removal of a base block and for the whole tower to tumble down. 

“You lose!”

“Elliot! You big cheat!” 

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I literally saw you flick the bottom block away.”

“I did no such thing.” 

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I were bored,” Elliot admits, standing and stumbling a little. “More gin?” she offers, picking up the bottle and shaking it enticingly in her hand. 

Necking back the remainder of her glass, Yaz hands it to her with a laugh, “One more then.”

“Excellent choice, Yaz.” 

The two of them don’t get a chance to finish off their final glasses, electing to lie together on the sofa with a blanket draped over them while they watch trashy television. They’re both asleep not fifteen minutes after Elliot has poured their drinks. 

* * *

Its the following weekend when Yaz finds herself back at Elliot’s and back in her bedroom trying on the outfits the other woman has bought for her. Yaz feels like she’s performing in some sort of fashion show with the number of options she’s been given. Elliot has gone all out — as always.

“What do you think?” she asks, stepping out of the walk-in wardrobe and into the bedroom. Elliot’s gaze unashamedly roams over Yaz’s very bare legs before taking in the short silk dress. The creamy colour of the fabric compliments her exposed skin and the camel blazer over her shoulders finishes the look.

“Elliot?” After a moment of no response, Yaz clears her throat, hazel eyes suddenly snapping to attention.

“Yes! Sorry, Yaz. You looking amazing. Solid 13/10 from me. The real question is though, what do  _ you  _ think?”

“I really like it,” Yaz assures, turning to check herself out in the mirror.

“But?”

“But,” Yaz sighs, “I think it’s a little too short for me. I dunno how comfortable I’d be out in public in it.” 

“No problem, Yaz! Wanna try the next thing?” 

“Yeah, thanks,” she says, accepting the next clothes hanger before pausing on her journey back to the walk-in, “Don’t send this back though. Keep it for another time.”

“ _ Oh, _ ”

Yaz winks before turning away from Elliot, and a few minutes later she steps out again.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?

“Why did you pick this out?”

“Because it’s sparkly!” Elliot grins, eyes glinting as brightly as the jacket.

“Babe — I look like Hugh Hefner.”

“A sexy Hugh Hefner?”

“No.” 

Elliot, it literally looks like a fairy threw up on me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Yes, it is.”

“But—”

“Elliot I’m not wearing this.”

“But Yaz,” Elliot whines.

“No.”

* * *

Wearing a full suit is new for Yaz, but the comfort and the new feeling of confidence that comes with it is a welcome surprise. And when she steps out and sees the gleam in Elliot’s eyes, she likes it even more. “Well?”

“I love it.” 

The red pantsuit is sleek and fits snugly to all her curves. The white silk shirt underneath her blazer is soft against her skin, and leaving the top two buttons undone allows her to breathe easier in something that feels so form-fitting. The brogues on her feet are new to her too, and just as comfortable as the rest of the outfit. When she turns to look in the mirror, even Yaz herself can admit she looks good, her posture relaxed as her hands slip into her trouser pockets. 

“It’s well comfy.”

“Exactly why I always wear a suit.”

“This is definitely a strong contender. You did well with this one. Way better than Hugh Hefner.”

“Yaz,” Elliot pouts, “It’s a nice jacket.”

“It’s really sweet that you think it is,” Yaz laughs as she heads back into the walk-in.

“Yaz!”

* * *

“I think you really pulled it out of the bag with one, Elliot,” Yaz calls from behind the walk-in doors.

“Show me!” Elliot replies eagerly. 

When Yaz steps out, she watches Elliot’s expression intently. She watches how her eyes widen and darken, how her cheeks flush, how her throat bobs and her tongue darts out. “Wow,” she breathes after a long moment. 

“So, what do you think?” Yaz asks, turning on the spot so the dress flows outwards.

“Yaz, I think you look absolutely incredible.”

“Yeah?” Yaz replies softly, cheeks flushing. Elliot never fails to make her feel good about herself and right now is no exception, her eyes shining with nothing but the truth.

“One hundred percent. I think that dress was made for you.” 

The dress in question is wine-red in colour. The fabric drapes loosely to the floor from Yaz’s waist onwards and has a split up both sides that stop mid-thigh, letting peeks of dark skin slip from behind the seductive red of the dress. The top half is sleeveless and backless, showing off flexing back and shoulder muscles along with an abundance of smooth skin. The front of the dress is a contrast, covering Yaz’s chest entirely all the way to a polar neck collar. On her feet are a pair of matching coloured heels that, when Elliot stands from the bed, makes her just a touch taller than the other woman. 

“This is what I’m gonna wear.”

“I think you’ve made the right choice there, Yaz.” Elliot agrees with a smile and hooded eyes as she rests strong hands on Yaz’s hips.

“I think so too.” There’s a small pause, “Thank you for this, by the way.”

“It’s my pleasure, Yaz.” 

“I um—” Yaz flushes before continuing, wondering whether she should admit what’s on her mind. “I like wearing things you’ve bought me.”

Elliot’s smile widens, “I like seeing you in things I’ve bought you.” 

Leaning down for a change, Yaz meets Elliot with a gentle kiss before pulling back to get changed. “I’m excited for tomorrow,” shes says before heading back into the walk-in to change back into her comfies. 

“I’m excited for tomorrow too.” She hears Elliot admit from the bedroom. 

* * *

When the following even rolls around, Yaz feels anxiety bubble and grow in her chest at the thought of the gala, of what people will think of her and Elliot together — not just as two women, but because of their age gap. The other woman has already reassured her that people will take no notice, yet her anxiety continues to persist. 

“Hey,” she feels a hand rest on her shoulder. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” she lies, lips pulling into a tight smile in the bathroom mirror. “I just — I’ve never been to anything like this before. I don’t really know how to do my make up for it if I’m honest.” 

“Come here,” Elliot persuades gently, wrapping her hand lightly over Yaz’s and guiding her over to the space between the two sinks. Elliot helps her jump up onto the surface, the marble cool on her behind even through her leggings, and tries not to flush as the older woman stands herself between her thighs. Pulling eye shadow and a small brush from Yaz’s make up bag, Elliot lifts them into her eye line. “Let me?”

“You’re gonna do my make up?” Yaz says in disbelief. 

“I am,” she says smugly. “I once did makeup class because I was bored… also Donna made me because of a previous makeup catastrophe.”

“I hope there are pictures of that.”

“There most certainly are not.  _ Anyway,  _ do you trust me?”

After a short moment, Yaz nods. She does trust Elliot, plus there’s no harm in letting herself enjoy the view of the blonde in her silk dressing gown and glasses as she works. Yaz successfully hides her disappointment when she’s asked to close her eyes so the eye shadow can be applied to her lids.

The tempo of slow paced music plays in the background like white noise while the two women stay silent. It’s not awkward, it’s comfortable more than anything, and the soft brushes against Yaz’s skin are soothing. 

There’s a quiet clatter as Elliot searches Yaz’s make up bag for something, finally pulling out a small plastic tube and popping the cap to reveal a shade of lipstick that conveniently matches the colour of Yaz’s dress. 

“Part your lips,” Elliot mumbles into the small gap between them and Yaz does as she’s told. 

Cupping Yaz’s chin, Elliot carefully applies the lipstick, tongue poking out of her mouth in concentration, and it takes everything for Yaz not let her lips twitch up into a smile at the sight. When she’s done, Elliot pulls back and Yaz rolls her lips together before popping them.

“For your sake, I hope that lipstick is kissproof,” Elliot says as she drops it into the bag.

“Why don’t you find out?” Yaz suggests, and Elliot takes her up on the offer when her lips find the waxy taste of Yaz’s. When she pulls away, they get their answer.

“It’s not,” Yaz reveals with a laugh. 

* * *

A sleek black car is waiting for them outside Elliot’s building, and always the gentlewoman, the blonde opens the door for Yaz and lets her slide into the back before following suit. Before the light in the car has the chance to turn itself off, Yaz lets her gaze roam over Elliot again for at least the tenth time that evening since she got dressed. The suit is navy blue in colour with white embroidered crests dotted over the blazer and trousers. A white shirt fits tightly to her form and her feet are dressed in a pair of white brogues. Her make up is light but noticeable and her blonde locks are styled in a slight wave. 

“What?” Yaz hears and looks up to spot a smirk on Elliot’s lips.

“Nothing, just — I think suits were made for you. You look amazing.” Yaz states as the light fades down to nothing and they pull away from the curb. 

“So do you,” Elliot smiles back, reaching between them to seek Yaz’s hand and interlock their fingers on leather seats. 

Yaz’s nerves simmer at the reassuring warmth of Elliot’s touch and softness around her eyes when she smiles in the streetlights flickering through the window. It catches on the green and gold flecks of her eyes. Yaz thinks she could get lost in them. 

The rest of the car ride follows with light conversation and music quietly playing from the radio until they reach the outskirts of London and pull down a path that leads to the manor where the gala is taking place. As soon as they turn the corner and the building comes into view, Yaz’s nerves make a harsh return as her heart pounds in her chest, her stomach twists in knots, and a lump forms in her throat. The tighter squeeze of Elliot’s hand is unconscious but instantly noticed by the other woman. 

“Hey, Yaz.”

Yaz turns to attention, wide-eyed and worried. 

“It’s gonna be fine, you’re gonna be fine. I’ll be with you all evening, yeah? We’re gonna have a great night,” Elliot says, lifting their joined hands to her lips and placing a gentle kiss on Yaz’s knuckles as the car pulls to a stop.

The action eases Yaz’s worry just slightly, “Yeah.” 

Getting out the car, Yaz watches as Elliot rushes around to her side to beat the chauffeur to the door, opening it and offering her hand for Yaz which she gladly takes with a laugh. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Yaz.” 

Hands linked, they follow other couples up the steps to the door where music echoes through from the bright hall, soon pacing through into the room after Elliot hands over their tickets. 

“Woah,” Yaz breathes as they step into the manor, eyes darting everywhere and taking in as much as she can. Round tables dot around the outer edge of the room, red velvet carpet following in a trail underneath them while wooden flooring covers the rest of the room while set after set of heels  _ clack _ against it. Pillars stand tall in each corner and a huge diamante chandelier hangs low as it lights the room in an inviting glow. A massive buffet stands at one end of the room and a large stage at the other. 

Yaz and Elliot make their way further into the room as people mingle around them and waiters pass them with trays of drinks, one even stopping to fill their empty hands with a flute of champagne each. 

“This is insane,” Yaz finally continues, “I feel like I’m in a movie.”

“It is all a bit excessive isn’t it?” Elliot says with a scrunch of her nose.

“It really is how the other half lives,” Yaz huffs a laugh and take a long sip of her drink, the champagne falling smoothly down her throat. “I don’t even wanna know how much this costs. It literally tastes expensive.” 

Elliot takes a sip of her own drink, “Definitely expensive. Cheap champagne tastes awful.” After a moment, Elliot speaks again, “How’re you feeling?”

“Better now I’m inside. You were right.”

“I’m always right, me.” Elliot winks and Yaz rolls her eyes. “Oh! Shall we go see what’s in the auction tonight?”

“Auction?”

“Ah, well you see, Yaz, the whole point of these charity galas is to get rich people to spend money to raise money for charities. So, they sell ridiculously expensive stuff like,” when they arrive at the stand showing what the night has on offer, Elliot points to one of the pictures, “A yacht. Or a Ferrari.” 

Yaz spots the picture of the bright red car before letting her eyes roam over the rest of the stand. “I cannot believe some of what they’re selling.”

“I know! It’s mad. Oh, look! An apartment in Paris, very romantic. Anyway, shall we go get food? I’m starving.”

After filling their plates, the two women find a seat and mingle with the other people at the table they choose. It turns out one of them is an old friend of Elliot’s from university, a man named Jack Harkness who now owns an engineering company in America and is over in the UK on a visit. For Yaz, it's a chance to learn more embarrassing stories about Elliot that the older woman is less than approving of her old friend disclosing as he ignores her pleas to stop.

“Once, I dragged her into a strip club and she was so embarrassed that she got completely wasted and threw a shit tonne of cash at this one dancer. Her bra almost burst from the amount of notes you put down there eh, Elliot?” 

“Please stop.” The woman muffles into the palms of her hands that are now covering her quickly heating face. 

Yaz laughs at the story, surprised that the Elliot she knows would step foot in a strip club. “I’m surprised you got her in there.” 

“Oh, she may have been drunk but she took a lot of convincing until I just dragged her in there anyway. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone go so red in the face.”

“ _ Jack _ ,” Elliot whines, looking suitably humiliated. Yaz runs a hand along her thigh in comfort before leaving it resting on her knee. Only then does Elliot peek from behind her hands to offer Yaz a smile. “You know, I’d tell what you would consider embarrassing stories about him but he has no shame.”

“Correct! I’m one person you cannot embarrass.”

Elliot sighs through a small laugh, “I have missed you Jack Harkness.”

“Likewise, Elliot.” he grins in return. 

Elliot’s laughter suddenly cuts off when someone grabs her shoulder from behind and squeezes, sharp nails digging in through the fabric of her suit, “Have you missed me too, dearie?” 

Elliot jumps so abruptly from her seat that it makes Yaz jump too as she watches her spin around to face an older brunette in a deep purple gown with sharp features and piercing blue eyes. On her arm is an older man with grey curly hair dressed just as smart as the woman he’s with, a purple ribbon bow tie matching her dress. 

When Yaz looks back to Elliot briefly, she’s gone as white as a sheet. It only clicks to her who the woman is when Elliot shakily mutters her name.

“Missy,” she gulps.

“Hello, darling. Quite the surprise to see you here,” she smirks. 

“You know I always come.”

“Hmm, quite right. I do recall we came here together a few times didn’t we?”

“Yes.”

“Fonder times, don’t you think?” Missy sneers.

“Not really.”

Missy’s gaze flashes to Yaz for a moment, and her smirk pulls up higher, pearly whites peering between thin lips. “Your new squeeze, dearie?”

“She’s my—” Elliot cuts herself off and Yaz feels her own cheeks flush. That was a discussion they were still yet to have. 

“Oh, right. She’s your—” Missy winks in an exaggerated manner before continuing, “So what’s the situation. Sugar mummy, sugar baby? Filling the void after me by throwing your money around?”

“Stop it.” Elliot hisses, fists closed tight as she holds her thinning temper. 

“You draining her wallet, too?” Missy asks Yaz, and that’s when she finds herself standing.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Yaz snaps, stepping between the two women, “Come on, Elliot. Let’s go get some fresh air, yeah?” Grabbing Elliot’s hand, Yaz tugs gently and she follows without response until the hand in her own squeezes harder at Missy’s final retort. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Elliot!”

* * *

The air out on the balcony is cool, the space open and expansive with only a few smokers loitering near the door so the corner of the space offers them a form of privacy. The stone banister quickly becomes a punching bag for Elliot’s fist when they reach it and she slams her knuckles down against it with a grunt. 

“She  _ always  _ has to have the last word, Yaz. God,” she huffs, “I can’t  _ believe  _ she’s here. That’s the first time I’ve seen her since… since—” 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Yaz comforts, wrapping her hands around Elliot’s now scuffed one, bringing damaged knuckles to her lips and placing a kiss against them. “You’re so much better than her, you know that?” 

Elliot sighs, pulling her hands from Yaz’s to press the flat of her palms against the cool stone of the banister. “I am. I know I am. I just can’t believe I froze up like that. It was just such a shock to see her. Sorry I essentially left you with the job of telling her to piss off, Yaz.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, babe. Your reaction was understandable.”

“To be honest I just feel sorry for the man she’s with. I just  _ know  _ she’s doing the same to him as she did to me. And that comment she made about you,” Elliot scoffs, “God she just gets under my skin. Baffles me to think I loved her at one point.”

“Don’t worry about that, Elliot, you and I both know that’s not what this is, yeah?”

“I know, I just — probably could’ve chosen a better time to have this conversation but now is as good a time as any I suppose. What  _ is  _ this, Yaz?” 

“I—” Yaz pauses for a moment, allowing herself a beat to think. She knows exactly what she wants, and she thinks Elliot wants the same. So why not just bite the bullet? “Be my girlfriend?”

Elliot’s gaze snaps to her then, eyes wide and shining in the moonlight as her expression morphs from surprise to happiness, the brightness of her smile competing with the stars above them. “Seriously?”

“Deadly.” Yaz grins back.

“Yes. Absolutely, Yaz, I’d love nothing more,” Elliot says, rising from her slump over the balcony to cup Yaz’s neck and pull her into a languid kiss. 

“Thank God you said yes,” Yaz mumbles against Elliot’s lips, “Or  _ that  _ would’ve been embarrassing.”

“Yasmin Khan,” Elliot pulls back, her gaze softening, “How could you ever think I would say no?”

* * *

As the two women head back inside, arm in arm, the final call for the start of the auction echoes around the room. Shuffling through the small crowd that has gathered at the stage, Elliot and Yaz find Jack again, the man offering thumbs up that Elliot responds to with a smile and a nod. 

The first few lots are uninteresting, a meal at some fancy restaurant, a spa weekend, a holiday home in Cornwall. Jack’s interest peaks on the Ferrari, finding himself in a bidding war with an older gentleman that he stubbornly wins with a beaming grin at Elliot and Yaz. “I wanted that car.”

“I can tell.” Elliot smiles back.

The next lot on the agenda is the apartment in central Paris. The pictures of its interior are gorgeous and the views from its balcony are just as stunning, but what surprises Yaz the most is when after a few bids she spots Elliot’s hand rise out of the corner of her eye. 

As the price climbs higher, Yaz can practically feel Jack buzzing in their vicinity while Elliot plays it surprisingly cool. When the price passes two million, another person drops out of the bidding, leaving just Elliot and one other woman left. 

“Elliot,” Yaz mumbles when the blonde raises her arm again. 

“I got this, Yaz,” Elliot whispers cooly, raising her arm again with a nod when given the chance.

“That’s  _ a lot  _ of money though.”

“I can afford it,” Elliot shrugs, “And besides, I want to take you to Paris.” 

“But—” 

“One sec—”

Elliot raises her arm again and they both watch as the other woman shakes her head. Yaz spots Elliot’s lip twitch. 

“3.5 million. 3.5 million holds the bid. At 3.5 million, any further bids at 3.5 million? All done at 3.5 million?” Not a moment later the hammer goes down and Jack cheers while Elliot’s grin grows. 

“Look at you with your fancy new apartment!” he says with a nudge against Elliot’s shoulder, “Take me with you?”

“Sorry, Jack, that spot is already taken,” Elliot remarks, sending a wink Yaz’s way.

“Oh, I see. Well, I wouldn’t wanna disturb  _ that.  _ The city of romance, how wonderful for the both of you.” 

“Shut up.” she laughs. 

“And you can just — afford that?” Yaz finally says after a long moment of bemusement.

“Yep.”

“Shit,”

“What?”

“I just didn’t realise you were  _ that  _ rich,” she laughs, Elliot and Jack along with her.

“Right, I’ll go sort paying for that in a minute,” Elliot says, almost jumping in surprise when Yaz seeks her hand. 

“Come with me first?”

After seeking out a bathroom a little further away from the main hall, probably further than they are allowed, Yaz drags Elliot inside before locking the door and pushing her up against it. 

“That was really hot, watching you stay cool while bidding for that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then,” Elliot breathes pushing back against Yaz until her thighs hit the counter behind her, feet soon leaving the floor when she’s hoisted onto the cool surface. 

Their mouths meet hot and heavy while Yaz wraps her arms around Elliot’s neck to pull her closer as a warm tongue slips past her lips with a sigh. 

“Elliot,” Yaz sighs against soft lips, “I need you.”

Elliot chuckles into the kiss, her hands gently grasping Yaz’s waist before giving it a light squeeze. 

“You look amazing in this dress,” Elliot says, lips moving to attack Yaz neck with wet kisses and the light scrape of teeth. 

One of her hands slip from Yaz’s waist to slink past one of the slits of her dress and the fabric rucks up to accommodate Elliot’s seeking hand as it brushes over sensitive flesh. When Yaz lets her thighs fall open to guide Elliot, she hears a gasp against her neck when the woman finds the hot space between her legs and the damp feel of her underwear. 

“Yaz,” she stutters, leaning back with blown pupils and jaw slack.

“I told you it was hot.” 

Grinning, Elliot leans back in to capture Yaz’s lips in a wanton kiss while her fingers run teasingly over the damp of Yaz’s underwear. 

“Elliot,” Yaz whines, hips rising slightly to try and gain more friction.

Yaz counts herself lucky when Elliot’s fingers slip past lacy fabric to find the heat of her as deft fingers run through slick folds, a moan falling from kiss-swollen lips at the relief of Elliot touching her where she needed it most. 

“God, Yaz, you’re soaked — should we come to galas more often?” Yaz laughs, her head falling against Elliot’s shoulder while her _girlfriend_ noses at her neck before leaving a kiss behind her ear. “I’ll bid for even more next time if it gets you like this.”

“Shut up,” Yaz taps Elliot’s arm in a playful scold, “And hurry up will you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Elliot says regimentally, wasting no time as she slips two fingers past Yaz’s entrance into molten heat. 

Yaz moans at the feel of Elliot inside her, hands moving to grip at the lapels of her blazer to pull her into a kiss just in time to muffle a louder moan when fingers curl deeper and graze sensitive walls. 

Elliot soon picks up the pace, fucking hard and fast into Yaz with one hand while the other cups her chest through the fabric of her dress. Pressing a palm to the counter behind her, Yaz leans back slightly while the other stays clutched in Elliot’s blazer and her chest heaves with her panting. 

When Elliot’s thumb finds her clit, it takes everything in Yaz not to come right then, her head falling back as natural curls roll over shoulders at the movement, “ _ Oh _ , fuck.” 

“How much longer you gonna hold on for me, Yaz?” Elliot teases, dipping forward to graze her lips over Yaz’s jaw.

“Not long,” Yaz moans as she rolls her hips into Elliot’s hand. 

“You look so good like this me, I want you to come for me, Yaz.” 

And that’s all it takes. Yaz feels herself come undone, muscles tense and mouth falling open with a moan as her hips jerk and her walls flutter against Elliot’s fingers. The woman’s name rolls off her tongue as she continues to thrust into her, stretching out her release as long as she can until Yaz slumps down to lean back on an elbow, one hand still clasping to Elliot’s blazer. 

After both women take a moment to catch their breath, Elliot pulls out, using the sink next to her to clean her fingers off before glancing down at Yaz’s hand gripping her lapel. “Hope that hasn’t creased.” 

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely, Yaz.”

“Sure,” 

“What  _ will  _ everyone else think if I have a singular crease in my suit?” she says, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

“That you’re a right scruff,” Yaz replies with a pointed look.

“Oi,”

“What?”

“Do I actually look scruffy?”

“No, babe. You look amazing.”

“Good.” Elliot beams.

“Anyway, I’m actually gonna use this bathroom for its real purpose now so bugger off for a sec. I’ll meet you back downstairs.”

“Charming that is. Shag your girlfriend at a gala and then she tells you to piss off.”

“I didn’t tell you to piss off — I told you to bugger off.”

“You’re so lovely, Yaz.”

“I know,” Yaz grins playfully before accepting the kiss Elliot plants on her lips. 

“See you down there.”

“See you in a minute, babe.” 

* * *

After finding her way back to the main hall, Elliot saunters through the room as she brushes imaginary dust off her blazer before tugging it closer and dipping one hand into her pocket. Feeling a little awkward standing on her own, she seeks out Jack’s company until Yaz’s return. 

She slips through the gathering crowd of now dancing couples, taking note of the louder music and slightly dimmed lights until her blood turns ice cold in its stream through her body when a pair of hands grab roughly at her hips. The smell of musky perfume is like her own personal dose of poison, easily recognisable in the air around her before she even spins around to be greeted by the face of her ex-wife.

“Hello, my dear.” Missy greets, overly polite but with eyes like daggers, and without giving Elliot a choice as she forces them to move, asks the question, “Care for a dance?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL KNOW I LOVE A CLIFFHANGER XXXXX


	5. If we're talking body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um,,,,, so hi. kinda dropped off the face of the earth when it came to this fic huh
> 
> I'm so sorry it took so long for another update for these guys I literally have no idea what happened my inspiration for this fic (and writing in general kinda) just died for a while and I've really struggled to get it back. hence why anything I post rn either isn't my best work or is slow to update idk whats going on atm honestly but I'm trying 
> 
> anyways back to this fic, I know this chapter is wayyyyy shorter than what they usually are but tbh I just needed to get out a chapter of just writing them and getting back into this fic. this is also why there is like ,,,,, no plot to this chapter 
> 
> but what other way to get back into this fic than with smut SO YEAH KFJGKFJKG. a treat for u all I guess for waiting so long and fr thank u for ur patience with me and this fic <3
> 
> hopefully it won't be another 3 months til the next update HFSKGDATERSHFXHDGYRSJDGF

_ The smell of musky perfume is like her own personal dose of poison, easily recognisable in the air around her before she even spins around to be greeted by the face of her ex-wife. _

_ “Hello, my dear.” Missy greets, overly polite but with eyes like daggers, and without giving Elliot a choice as she forces them to move, asks the question, “Care for a dance?”  _

* * *

Reluctantly, Elliot places one hand on Missy’s waist while the other is trapped in a vice grip by her ex-wife as they begin to move to the slow beat of the music while it hums distantly around them. Missy unsurprisingly leads, a sharp grin on her face as they dance. For a moment, Elliot considers pulling away until she realises how much of a scene it would cause, instead choosing to stick with appropriate etiquette for the time being.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Elliot scowls, voice hushed so as not to draw attention to them.

“Why I’m just having a dance with a friend, aren’t I? A friend I’ve not seen in a _ long _ while.”

“We are not friends.”

“Well now, that’s a little harsh, isn’t it? We were married for—”

“We are  _ not  _ friends, Missy. Anyway, why aren’t you dancing with your new man? Too busy stealing from him, too?”

“I would never do such a thing, Elliot.” Missy feigns offense as she spins Elliot before yanking her back close. Elliot huffs when they collide. “It was  _ you  _ who broke us off for no reason.”

“Screw you, Missy.”

“If you want to.”

“You disgust me.”

“How naughty.” 

“So what’s the plan, then? Hm?” Elliot asks after another few steps, paranoia niggling at the back of her mind, “What’s the scheme? Why are you so insistent on ruining my evening? Haven’t you already ruined enough for me?” 

“There is no plan, dearie. I just wanted a chat… unless,” The next thing Elliot knows, she’s falling back, Missy’s hand between her shoulder blades holding her steady before her head can meet the floor as she dips her, “I do have a plan. One that you just haven’t figured out yet.  _ Maybe _ it’s already in action.”

Missy pulls them back up then and Elliot loses her voice at the speed of the sudden movement, opting for a glare until she can gather the air back into her lungs. 

“Or maybe,” Missy continues, “I just like making you paranoid,” she smirks, spinning Elliot out again.

Yet, before Elliot can be pulled back towards the woman she resents, a hand clasps her free one, and she looks up to find the comforting familiarity of Yasmin Khan whose gaze is currently fixed harshly on her ex-wife. 

“I’ll take it from here, thanks,” Yaz jibes, giving Elliot a sharp tug to free her from the restraints of Missy’s calloused grip. 

“Very well,” Missy remarks offhandedly with a shrug, “I’ll see you around, my dears.”

“You won’t.” Yaz snaps back before shifting her focus to Elliot, gaze softening as she rests a hand on her pale cheek. “Elliot, are you ok?”

“I am now. Thanks for the save, Yaz. She caught me off guard and I didn’t exactly wanna cause a scene by pushing away so––”

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got you now.”

“Thank God you do.” Elliot sighs contently, resting her forehead against Yaz’s own as she links their fingers and rests a hand gently against the bare skin of Yaz’s back. “I’m a bit bummed out though now.”

“Because of Missy?”

“No. Because I wanted to ask  _ you _ for a dance.”

“Well then…” Yaz starts, pulling away entirely and taking two steps back while opening her arms wide in offer, “Ask me.”

Elliot grins as she steps forward to meet her, hand reaching out with her palm facing upwards ready to be taken. “Yasmin Khan, May I have this dance?” 

Fingers brush over Elliot’s palm before taking her hand fully, “You may.” 

Pulling Yaz gently closer, Elliot moves their intertwined hands to the side and rests her free hand on Yaz’s back, her thumb running lightly over the bumps of her spine. She instantly notices Yaz’s shiver at the touch. 

“Better?” Yaz asks.

“Much. Thank you, Yaz.”

“You’re welcome, babe.”

The music slows as the two women sway on the spot, both melting into each other as Yaz moves her arms to slink around Elliot’s neck, fingertips tickling the fine hairs at the back of her neck while their temples rest together. Elliot’s arms wrap around Yaz’s waist as they lose themselves in the moment, in the safety that the other provides that allows them to forget the troubles the night has thrown at them. 

When the song finally ends, they slowly shift their heads to meet each other eye to eye, dopey smiles on their lips. Elliot wastes no time in letting her own meet Yaz’s in a gentle kiss. 

“Wanna go home?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Yaz hums, breath ghosting over Elliot’s lips when she speaks. 

After sorting out the payment for her new Paris apartment, they leave the manor and step out into the cool night air as they wait for their driver to pull up to the entrance. Just like before, Elliot opens the door for Yaz before making her way around to her own side and sliding in next to her, instantly rejoining their hands on the back seat. 

“Alright?” Elliot asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Have a good evening?”

“I did actually. Apart from, well –– you know.”

“Yeah…” Elliot trails off.

“My favourite part was in the bathroom.”

Elliot feels her face heat up at the memory, images of her hand between Yaz’s legs while she rocks on the counter flashing through her mind. She gives her girlfriend’s hand a light squeeze.

“Me too,” she says, feeling smitten.

The city passes by in a blur, the two women whispering the occasional mumble to each other as they distance themselves further from the manor and further the trouble that lies inside. As they drive through the night, sharp blue eyes and brown curly hair become a far off memory as they find focus in only each other. In slowly widening pupils and lingering touches.

Yaz’s breath hitches when Elliot’s fingers slip beneath the slit of her dress, short fingernails running lightly over her thigh, her skin sensitive to the cool fingertips of the woman sat next to her.

The teasing sensation of Elliot’s fingers makes the car journey feel twice as long as it should –– every traffic light stopping them on red, the unrelenting rain that suddenly bursts from the clouds slowing the speed of their driver, and the general fact that time itself seems to slow when Yaz’s focus stays fixed on Elliot. 

Not another word is spoken between them for the rest of the drive, the only sound Yaz's breath catching every time Elliot’s fingers creep higher. 

By the time they pull into the parking garage, Elliot’s fingertips are grazing the hem of Yaz’s underwear at the crease of her thigh. She almost feels embarrassed at the dampness in her underwear. Almost.

When the driver pulls the handbrake up, Elliot squeezes Yaz’s thigh.

“You can finish for the night now, mate. Just leave the car running,” Elliot smiles into the rearview mirror to catch the driver's gaze.

“Are you sure, ma’am?”

“Positive! I’ll give you a good tip, don’t worry. Very smooth drive, a solid 13/10.” 

With a simple nod at the thought of a hefty tip, the driver steps out of the car, the echoing thud of the door shutting behind him through the parking lot cementing the fact they’re now alone. Yaz couldn’t have been more grateful for the car’s blacked out windows if she tried.

After a brief moment of silence, Yaz watches Elliot take a deep breath and turn towards her. She can’t help but gulp in anticipation. She feels like her whole body is vibrating as Elliot drinks in her form in the dim light of the car, every muscle thrumming to the point when she can’t sit still as she shifts against the leather seats.

So, when Elliot surges forwards to capture her lips in a fierce kiss, Yaz can’t stop the hum of relief that buzzes against Elliot’s mouth as her arms wrap around her girlfriend’s neck. Elliot wastes no time pushing her tongue past Yaz’s lips as the hand on her thigh squeezes harder, leaving crescent moons in their wake as her other hand runs through loose curls at the back of Yaz’s skull. 

The hand in her hair pulls them down so that Yaz finds herself straddling Elliot, strong hands shifting to grip at her skin of hips after rucking her dress up around her waist.

“Yaz,” Elliot breathes into the gap between their lips, “shift up.”

“Huh?” Yaz pulls away in dazed confusion — until Elliot starts tugging her upwards by the hips. When realisation kicks in, Yaz flushes red, “ _ Oh. _ ”

Excitement pumps through her veins and kicks up the speed of her heart as she shuffles up with guidance from Elliot until the heat between her thighs is in direct correlation with Elliot’s mouth. Hot breath hits the damp of her underwear and Yaz shivers, a quiet moan slipping free when she looks down to see Elliot licking her lips. 

Gathering herself, Yaz has to look away for a moment, gaze falling to the window where she already notices drops of condensation gathering in clusters on the glass. 

_ How hot is it in the car? _

Yaz instantly forgets her own question — or lacks any care of answering it when she feels Elliot push her underwear to the side, thumb brushing lightly over her clit as she does and Yaz’s hips twitch at the tease. 

When a hot mouth envelopes her, Yaz’s hand smacks flat against the window while the other drops to latch onto the roots of Elliot’s hair. 

“Oh, fuck,” Yaz moans, already panting heavily at the eagerness of Elliot’s tongue. The sensation of Elliot eating her like she holds the sweetest of flavours has every nerve ending in Yaz’s body burning with pleasure right down to the tips of her toes that curl in her shoes. The grip on her hips slowly starts to guide her, encouraging Yaz to grind against Elliot’s face, and when she does it’s with a need so strong that her thighs are already quivering when Elliot’s tongue dips inside her briefly. 

As the heat of their bodies emanates into the small space of the car, Yaz feels sweat prick at the back of her neck and on her forehead as she rides Elliot’s face harder, revelling the moans and hums from the woman between her thighs with every grind of her hips. When Elliot’s tongue presses flat against her clit, adding a much needed pressure as it runs across it in a long, broad, stroke, the hand Yaz has in Elliot’s hair shoots up the car roof, slamming against it as her head falls back and a loud moan rolls off her tongue.

“Shit, Elliot, I’m close,” Yaz whines as the sounds of Elliot lapping at her fervently fill the car. Yaz couldn’t care less for the lewd sounds, lost in the feelings that her girlfriend sends pulsing through her with every movement of her mouth against her core.

All Elliot does is hum response, doubling down on the pleasure she is giving Yaz as she refuses to let up. Yaz wonders if she’s even come up for air and comes to the conclusion that she hopes she doesn’t when she feels band in her gut on the brim of snapping, the tension coiled so hot and tight inside her that she prays Elliot doesn’t slow down for a second.

And she doesn’t — because suddenly the band snaps as Yaz’s hand presses so hard against the window it leaves a print, her whole body going taught as a moan catches in her throat before releasing just like the rest of her as Elliot takes in every last drop of Yaz. Her thighs tremble as Elliot brushes her tongue gently against Yaz to guide her down before moving to press soft kisses to her inner thighs. Once she’s done leaving her mark with the light nip of teeth, she helps Yaz to sit back on her hips, sitting up to draw her in for a kiss. 

She can taste herself on Elliot’s lips, on her tongue and teeth and before she can let that make the simmer in her belly burn bright again, she pulls away still breathless. 

“You’re amazin’,” Elliot grins dopily.

Yaz laughs, “Erm, you’re not the one who just made me come that hard.”

“But it was my pleasure to watch you.”

For a moment, Yaz doesn’t know what to say, face heating up instead. “You’re too much.”

“Come on, let's go up,” Elliot suggests, shifting them so they can get out of the car.

“You might have to carry me after that, think my legs might have turned to jelly.”

“I’m more than happy to.”

“Shut up,” Yaz shoves at her playfully, “I’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

Once ready, Elliot offers her hand for Yaz to take, linking their fingers as she helps her out of the car, goosebumps rising on her skin when she greets the cool air. 

“Hotter than I thought in that car,” Yaz remarks.

“I wonder why,” Elliot quips in reply as they head toward the elevator. 

When the elevator opens with a ding, the two women step inside. 

“God I can’t wait to get into bed babe,” Yaz sighs, “I’m knackered after tonight.”

At Elliot’s silent response, Yaz glances to the side to find a smirk on her girlfriend’s lips. She rolls her eyes at the sight. 

“Whatever. You better spoon me tonight.”

“If that’s what you want, Yaz.”

“It is.”

“Then your wish is my command.”

“I look forward to it.”

Elliot leans in to press a quick kiss to Yaz’s cheek just as the elevator doors slide open, “Me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are always super appreciated <3333

**Author's Note:**

> please kind i'm a sensitive soul <3 
> 
> kudos and comments are my life blood xx


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